Reunions
by nevertothethird
Summary: Sometimes it just takes a little longer to get things right. Two high school reunions and a birthday party should do the trick.
1. Ten Year Reunion

**A/N 1: **This was a plot bunny that would not go away until it was written. This will be three chapters only, and hopefully finished in the next month or so. Please know that Logan and Veronica are my OTP, for serious. Just have a little faith in me.

**A/N 2: **A truck load of thank you notes to my beta, Scandalpants, for reading this through about three and a half times and encouraging me to keep going when I was ready to trash it.

* * *

"I'm not going." Logan leans back on the couch and extends his feet in front of him to rest on the coffee table.

He knows that under any other circumstances he would find Wallace's dogged determination amusing, but while he is sitting on his couch drinking a beer, the image of Wallace tearing through his carefully organized closet is only annoying.

Wallace has been singing the same refrain since receiving their 10-year high school reunion invitations in the mail two months prior, and Logan's response is always the same: 'Hell no. I'm not going.'

Something about his answer clearly has yet to register with Wallace, because he now stands in front of Logan and holds out two ties: one charcoal grey with stripes, and the other purple with a faint white pattern woven in, both silk.

Logan doesn't acknowledge him standing there and continues to watch _Carrie_; the film he specifically chose when Wallace told him he was coming over.

This method of 'ignore them until they leave' works with most people, but Logan learned several years prior that Wallace was immune. He wonders if this inoculation against his ire was something Veronica's friendship equipped him for.

"Come on Logan, I need a wingman, and you've been elected." Wallace shakes the ties in Logan's face, moving them a little closer.

He bats them away, but Wallace continues, occasionally looking over his shoulder to also watch TV.

Logan grabs both of the ties, bunches them up, and throws them across the room. He stands up in an attempt to intimidate Wallace with the five inches he has over him, but Wallace just rolls his eyes and pushes him back down.

He grimaces, remembering fondly a time when people were actually scared of him. Now, Wallace Fennel is pushing him around, and for some reason he lets him.

"I don't understand why your desire to hook up with one of our former classmates requires my attendance." He takes a long sip of his beer and turns off the TV.

"Because this isn't just any classmate. We're talking about Jenny Roe. That girl was blazin' in high school. I'm banking on her being a full blown inferno in her adult years. I need you to talk me up." He doesn't wait for a response, just walks away, presumably into the kitchen.

Logan hears the refrigerator door open and close, and the sound of a beer bottle being uncapped. "Bring me another one of those," he calls over his shoulder.

Wallace walks back in and flops on the couch next to Logan, shaking his head. "No more for you until the reunion. I need you stone cold sober until I talk to Jenny, and then you can do whatever you want."

"How do you even know she's going to be there?"

"One of my former teammates is on the alumni committee. He told me."

If ignoring doesn't work, Logan thinks that maybe some light ridicule will do the job. He looks over at Wallace and bats his eyelashes.

"What do you need me for, Wally? I'm sure Jenny remembers that magical moment the two of you shared senior year. What were her exact words again?" He scratches his chin, amusement shining in his eyes. "That's right. 'Can you hand me a napkin?' How she's stayed away this long is a mystery to me."

Wallace looks at him, his lips pursed in annoyance. "No more playing 'truth or truth' when we're drunk." He slaps Logan on the shoulder. "Come on, it'll be educational. Aren't you a little curious as to where all your former friends ended up?"

He raises his eyebrows, puzzled that Wallace clearly thinks this is a selling point. "I don't give a shit if the whole cheerleading squad is there reenacting their stripper-light routine to 'I'm A Slave 4 U'. I have zero interest in rubbing elbows with a bunch of sycophantic mouth-breathers. Anyone I want to talk to from high school, I talk to."

Wallace nods slowly, his lips curl into a shit-eating grin, and Logan's stomach drops. He has a trump card to play and Logan knows he's about to lose the argument they've been having for two months. He can't watch as Wallace reveals whatever information is inevitably going to lead to him standing up and putting on a suit, so he turns his head away and drinks down the last gulp in his bottle.

"So, you talk to _everyone_ from high school you care about? Interesting." Wallace stands up and places his beer bottle on a coaster, heading back to Logan's bedroom.

Logan is up off the couch less than two seconds after Wallace and follows him into the room, seeing for the first time the mess he's made. Ties, suit jackets, and shoes, are spread out among the room. Wallace stands in front of Logan's closet again, pulling out shirts and throwing them on the bed.

"If I didn't know you as well as I do, your closet would give me all the evidence I need that you are a sociopath." He pulls out two blue dress shirts and holds them up for Logan to see, his eyebrows raised. "You have two of the same exact shirt."

"Three actually. One is at the dry cleaners." Logan pulls them away and hangs them back up in their proper place. "I also fold my underwear."

Turning around, Wallace shakes his head and mutters under his breath, "Forget sociopath. You are the gayest straight man I've ever met."

Logan rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet and swings his arms, trying to look and sound nonchalant. "So, Veronica is coming?"

A laugh escapes Wallace, and he faces Logan with a smirk on his face.

Immunity to his scowl, Logan might be able to tolerate, but blatant pilfering of his trademark smirk is something that he cannot stand for. He fully intends to let Wallace know that, after he gets the information he needs.

"Look man, it was a surprise to me, too. She called me out of the blue last week and told me she changed her mind." Wallace crosses his arms across his chest and keeps his expression blank, waiting to see how Logan takes this new information.

For his part, Logan is simultaneously overjoyed and infuriated by the knowledge that he is potentially an hour away from seeing Veronica Mars for the first time in six years. Overjoyed because, well, it's Veronica Mars. Furious because there's a hyphen in her name now that doesn't link to 'Echolls' and he alone carries the blame for that ugly fact.

He speaks with gritted teeth and does his best to sound angry, because if he doesn't he might just sound hurt, and that's not something he's prepared to have Wallace hear. "Is she bringing that douche she calls her husband?"

Wallace's face relaxes and for a second, Logan thinks he sees pity, but he knows better. Wallace has never pitied him. This is strictly sympathy. He doesn't think too long about the fact that if Wallace knew how he and Veronica parted ways after graduation, his sympathy would be replaced by anger.

"Logan, man, you've never met the guy. Give him a chance." His voice is gentle, as if soothing a scared animal.

"Nope." He scratches his chin, his eyes scrunched up in thought. "And thanks for the reminder that I wasn't invited to the wedding."

This gets a laugh from Wallace as he throws up his hands in amusement. "Can you blame her? You think she really wants her on-again, off-again ex-boyfriend watching her get married? Plus, the two of you barely talked after graduation."

Logan clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, a gesture he immediately regrets for the way it communicates his discomfort. "True. But still –"he trails off, content to let Wallace believe the lie.

Every nine months or so, Wallace tries to get Logan to fess up to what happened between him and Veronica, and he always keeps the answer vague. It's usually a patchwork of, "We grew apart", "I never get up to San Francisco and she never comes to Neptune," "Still love her, and it's too hard to be her friend."

They're all half-truths. What's missing is the admission that links them all together: "I fucked up, waited six months to apologize, and by then she didn't want anything to do with me."

Wallace slaps him on the back. "Come on. You know you want to see if you're prettier than this guy."

Logan narrows his eyes. "No one is prettier than me. Do you like him?"

He shrugs in response and then takes a moment before actually answering. "He makes Veronica happy." His tone is firm, as if this is really the only thing that matters.

Still, the combination of Wallace's words and expression thrill Logan in a way that's hard to describe. He snaps and points a finger at Wallace, his face alight with joy. "You don't like him."

"Doesn't matter if I do or not." He rolls his eyes at the way Logan looks supremely proud of himself. "Don't get cocky. I didn't really like you either."

He walks past Logan to a couple suit jackets hanging over an armchair and holds them up. "What's it going to be? Hugo Boss, or Armani?"

Logan turns to his closet. "Neither. Only D&G will suffice for showing up my ex-girlfriend's husband."

When he faces Wallace again, his friend looks worried. "What do you have planned?"

He smirks and gestures with his head for Wallace to leave the room. "Nothing specific. I thought I'd feel this one out. Improvise."

The show he's putting on is really for his own benefit. If he can convince Wallace that this is all a game, merely a joke between old friends, then maybe he can convince himself of that, and his heart won't actually be smashed watching Veronica walk into their reunion holding hands with someone he's never learned the name of, let alone met.

"I'm going to regret making you come to this thing aren't I?"

Logan continues to sort through his closet to collect the pieces to his suit. "Probably."

* * *

_When she's pressed into the cushions of his couch like this, he feels every one of the eleven inches of height he has over her. It's been a while, so he can't really remember, but he thinks this used to be easier. _

_He coaxes her into a sitting position, and her arms immediately go up. It's a reflex on her part, but it's also an invitation, and he responds eagerly. He lets her shirt drop to the floor and, now that she has more skin exposed, he pauses to stare at her. Or, more precisely, at her chest. _

"_My eyes are up here, mister." It's an old joke, but he doesn't even care. She could recite names and addresses from the white pages and he'd be riveted. _

_He looks up just long enough to see that her face is flushed, and that there's a smile playing on her lips, but then his eyes are back on her chest. He traces the outline of her bra with his index finger. "I just didn't think I'd be seeing this again." _

_She laughs and he hears her try to keep her breath steady as his fingers come into contact with skin. "Well, play your cards right, and you'll be seeing a lot more of me."_

_He smiles again, even wider, when he accidentally tickles her while running his hands down her side. He feels like he's seventeen again, which is fitting, given that was how old he was the first time he saw her with her shirt off. _

_She wraps her arms around his neck, and his lips instinctively find the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder, causing a soft hum to escape her lips. "This is gearing up to be the best going away present a girl could ask for."_

_Her words make him freeze, his lips poised to kiss her collarbone. Alarm bells sounding loud in his head. She couldn't mean that the way it sounded, right?_

_He pulls back to examine her and a grimace accompanied by a furrowed brow has replaced his smile. _

_He shakes his head and jumps off the couch, picking her shirt up off the floor as he does. "This isn't happening." Tossing the shirt at her, he takes several steps away. _

_Rather than focus on her face, he concentrates on her hands, which are kneading the hem of her shirt. The shirt he wishes she'd put on already._

"_Logan, what's going on?"_

"_You can show yourself out." He looks up from her hands and sees that her expression is blank, except for what he thinks might be hurt flickering in her eyes. He turns around and almost flees the living room, not even throwing her a backward glance. _

_He stands in the hallway, listens for the sound of her leaving, resting his forehead against the wall. There's no stomping off in anger. No tears and sniffles. Just a quiet shuffle of feet, and the door closing behind her. _

* * *

Logan enters the Neptune Country Club first, with Wallace following a few steps behind. Neptune High has rented the entire facility, and even he has to admit that the aesthetic in the ballroom and on the outdoor patio is impressive. He approaches the check-in table and sees two women who look vaguely familiar. He knows their names will escape him even if he tries to remember, and he really doesn't care to try.

It's clear they know him, though, as they sit up a little taller and stick their chests out to be more prominently displayed.

He barely stops himself from rolling his eyes and pauses for a moment to allow Wallace to catch up with him. When he turns back to the women at the table, he sees the one with long brown hair and side sweeping bangs glance down at his left hand and then awkwardly run a hand through her hair, sabotaging any attempt at looking casual.

"Logan Echolls. There was a rumor going around that you weren't going to be here."

"You mean people were gossiping about me? How original."

The brunette titters and smiles. Her friend with a pixie cut blushes a deep shade of red. He's about 90% certain that he made out with Pixie Cut at a party junior year. When she bites her lip as she catches his eye, he's 100% sure, and then is stumped when he tries to remember if he enjoyed it.

Side Bangs notices Wallace then, and her brow furrows before her eyes go wide. "And Wallace Fennel. You two came together?"

The women exchange glances, trying to communicate a host of questions with just their facial expressions. A rush of pleasure courses through Logan as an opportunity to mess with Wallace is handed to him.

"Yes, we came together." Logan slides a hand around Wallace's waist to pull him close, and Wallace quickly pushes him away with a frown and clenched jaw. "_Together_ together, if you catch my meaning."

Wallace tries to respond, but all his words come out as monosyllabic noises. He settles for emphatically shaking his head.

Logan walks his index and middle finger up Wallace's arm, playing coy. "Come on dumplin', I said I was sorry."

He stands closer to Wallace and fights to keep his expression serious. He notes Side Bangs is pouting as she slides him the guest book to sign, which only encourages him to continue.

Wallace shoots him a glare, signs his own name without looking at the page and backs away, ignoring the stares of both women.

"Is this because I said your ass looks big in those slacks? You know I like some junk in the trunk." Logan clucks his tongue and looks at Pixie Cut, who is wordlessly holding both his and Wallace's name tags out to him. "Men, right?"

He shouts after Wallace, now twenty feet away from him. "Honeybun, you know the kids hate it when we fight."

He winks at the women, takes the nametags, and follows Wallace, rolling his eyes only when he hears a burst of conversation from Side Bangs and Pixie Cut the moment he steps away.

Wallace meets his arrival in the ballroom with a scowl. "You finished now?"

Logan hands him his nametag and smirks. "Just getting started."

"You win. I already regret this." At that moment Wallace's jaw goes slack as his eyes follow the progress of a woman with curly auburn hair walking across the room.

Logan starts a steady slow clap as his eyes also follow the woman. "And _that, _ladies and gentlemen, is how you wear a black dress." He smiles at the way Wallace doesn't even hear him, and then feels a pang of envy at his obvious excitement.

After Parker, there was a string of practically nameless women. He likes to think of himself as a serial monogamist, whose relationships simply never last longer than a month. It's been a while since a woman has made him lose the ability to maintain his cool, and he finds he misses the feeling of being unmoored.

He's never given much credence to the idea of 'it only takes one good woman', but the older he gets the more he thinks, in his case, it's probably true. He doesn't ruminate on the subject too often, as whenever he does, his mind immediately reminds him he had one once (or five times, depending on how one counts). He doubts the universe will be kind enough to extend him a sixth chance.

"I take it that's the never forgotten Jenny Roe?" He bumps Wallace's shoulder amicably, reminding him he's still standing there.

"That'd be her." He turns to face Logan, and his eyes are darting around the room, too excited to settle on one fixed spot. "I'm telling you, look up the term 'foxy lady' in a dictionary, and it's her picture you'd see."

Logan puts a hand up to stop Wallace from continuing. "Cool it, Shaft. What's your game plan?"

He looks confused for a moment and then shrugs his shoulders. "I figured I'd just offer to buy her a drink."

Logan shakes his head. Wallace's naivety is almost endearing. Almost. "First off, it's an open bar. And second, you can't just hit on a woman by buying her a drink."

Wallace gapes at him and is at a loss for words for a second. "But that's the way _you_ hit on women."

His returning expression is smug and he wings an eyebrow, gesturing down the length of his body with one hand. "But look at me. I'm a god." He gestures to Wallace. "That won't work with you."

Wallace punches him in the shoulder and Logan winces, certain he was punched with more force than expressly necessary. He opens his mouth to make a comment about how 5' 7" pygmies are a lot stronger than he realized, but is distracted by the sudden presence of a slight arm wrapping around his shoulder.

He knows instantly who the arm belongs to, and sees her wrap the other one around Wallace's shoulder.

Instead of looking at her face, he focuses on the sensation of her forearm resting on his shoulder. After reveling in the feeling, his attention switches to finding the closest exit.

He's fucked, and this was a huge mistake.

It's so much worse when she speaks, and he almost groans at how the sound of her voice makes him just a little hard. "Boys, you should hear what people are saying about you."

He doesn't know if her dropping her arm from his shoulder is a sure sign that there is a god who actually cares about him, but he's taking it as one. With her attention on Wallace, who has wrapped her in a tight hug, he has about six seconds to put on his mask of complacency.

He knows he's in a tight spot. He can't use his go-to methods of turning people away because, this is Veronica and she knows him, but also because Wallace will call him out for being a dick. His only recourse is to act with polite disinterest.

It's not something he's ever managed with Veronica before, but he's older now. Wiser now. He can do polite disinterest.

When she turns from Wallace to face him, he wonders how much of a mistake it would be to grab her and kiss her. It's the combination of the gleam in her eye, the ring on her hand, and the head tilt she gives him that makes him realize that he doesn't stand a chance of leaving this interaction unscathed.

So much for disinterest.

"Well, put us out of our misery." They're the first words he's spoken to her in five and a half years, and he wonders if his voice affects her in the way hers affects him.

She gestures between him and Wallace and smiles. "Apparently the two of you had a secret romance while in high school and after we broke up the last time -"

She directs her smile at Logan, and it amazes him she can even mention their past romance without flinching.

"- you sought comfort in the arms of my best friend. The two of you have been an item ever since. You also have three adopted children, and all five of you are going to be on the cover of _The Advocate_ next month."

Her shoulders are shaking with held in laughter, and he doesn't think he's ever seen a more beautiful sight. "It feels so good to not be the most talked about person at the reunion," she says.

If Veronica Mars had been the first ghost to visit Ebenezer Scrooge, the ghosts of past, present, and future would have been unnecessary. Because first, she would have tied Scrooge up in a bow of confusion with her wit and wordplay. Then as soon as he was completely disarmed, she would have smiled at him, and his miserly nature wouldn't have stood a chance. His story of redemption would have been complete in less than ten pages.

Logan notices there are a few laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and he files them away as places he must definitely kiss. For a blissful two seconds he lives in fantasy land, before reminding himself that acting on such an impulse would result in him being on the receiving end of a knee to the groin area, courtesy of the woman whose temple he wants to kiss

He's doesn't have the ability to resist her joy, which is why he returns her smile with a full watt version of his own.

Wallace, on the other hand, is decidedly less amused. He keeps looking back and forth between him and Veronica and finally throws his hands up in the air. "You laugh now, but how am I going to get anywhere with Jenny when she thinks Logan is my lover and we have a peck of children at home?"

Logan claps a hand on Wallace's shoulder. "Don't worry I'll sort it out." He expects Wallace to shrug off the hand, but instead Veronica takes hold of his wrist and drops it to his side.

The feeling of his hand dully hitting his leg barely registers. What he feels keenly is the place on the top of his hand where her palm touched. He deduces that Veronica's hand lotion must contain traces of sulfuric acid, because there's no reason her touch alone should make his skin burn like it is.

"Excuse me? What makes you think you're doing anything?" She's standing with her hands on her hips and Logan pivots to take in her full appearance.

The first thing he notices is that she's wearing a dress. He can't remember the last time he's seen her wear a dress, but sees that the skirt is loose in such a way that if he grabbed and spun her it would dance across her legs. He's tempted to try, but given his luck, it would be at that moment her husband would enter and he'd say something dumb like, 'I'll flip a coin for her.'

Instead, he points to himself with both hands. "I'm the wingman. Apparently there was an election and everything."

She gasps and looks at Wallace with mock horror. "Was my name even on the ballot?"

He shrugs her off. "V, you live in San Francisco. A man with my level of game needs a wingman within constant reach."

Logan's about to make a comment about how if he truly had game he wouldn't _need_ a wingman, but Veronica is quicker, smacking Wallace upside the head and leveling a glare at him.

She points an accusing finger at Logan. "You've been a bad influence on him."

He shouldn't take that as a compliment, but he does. He bounces on the balls of his feet because, as much as her presence unsettles him, it also makes him giddy and he's greatly enjoying this tug of war over Wallace.

She claps her hands together and then holds them up in the position of a diplomat about to proctor a deal. "Okay, this is what I'm offering. If I get Jenny Roe over here in less than five minutes, I am Wallace's official wingman. Which means I get right of first refusal for all wingman duties from now to eternity." She crosses her hands over one another to offer Wallace her right and Logan her left.

They look at each other, nod, and then take the hand she's extending, giving it a firm shake.

She beams at both of them and rubs her hands together. "This is going to be cake."

Logan stands almost motionless as he watches her make a beeline for Jenny Roe standing at the bar, the skirt of her dress skimming her knees as she moves. He's powerless to stop staring as she puts a hand out for Jenny to shake, talks animatedly in a way that seems to use her entire body, and then turns around with Jenny following her, heading straight for him and Wallace, now holding two beers.

Wallace stares at him wide eyed. "Holy shit. She did it."

Laughing, he marks this as one of the few times he's ever heard Wallace swear and looks at his watch. "Took her less than four minutes. Thus ends my run as your wingman."

Wallace chuckles and shakes his head. "Probably a good thing. Most of the women you talk to on my behalf end up wanting you anyway."

He flattens his tie out and does his best to look at ease as Veronica and Jenny come to stand in front of him.

"Jenny, you might remember Wallace Fennel from high school. The one time star of the Neptune High basketball team." She smiles brightly at them both. "Wallace, Jenny is the Youth Program Coordinator at the YMCA in the '02 zip. She says they're looking for basketball couches for their junior high team. Know anyone qualified?"

Logan chuckles as he sees Wallace stop himself from raising his hand, and then nod slowly in an attempt to be casual.

"Yeah, I might know someone. Can I impress you with my extensive athletic accomplishments over a drink?"

"You can try." Jenny smiles at him and holds up her champagne glass to show that it's half full, and then drains it with one gulp. "Look at that. I need a fresh one."

Wallace leads her away with a hand placed lightly on her lower back and shoots Veronica a grin over his shoulder.

Handing Logan one of the beers, Veronica tilts hers to clink the neck of his. "Sorry for putting you out of a job."

He laughs and takes a long drink. "Enjoy your victory, but I'd like to remind you that cheaters never prosper."

She tries to keep her expression serious, but the corners of her mouth twitch. "How did I cheat?"

"My guess, you used your resources at the paper to do a search on Miss Roe. You had insider information."

"Is it against the rules to use every resource at my disposal?"

She bites her thumbnail as she ponders her own question, and Logan feels his breath leave him watching the familiar move. He needs to get out of this conversation and soon.

Once he does, he'll follow his tried and true method of dulling his feelings: He'll pick up the first girl who can hold down a decent conversation, take her out for a couple drinks and then, depending on how he feels, hit a single, double, or triple.

He shakes his head, his eyes downcast, and takes a couple of steps away to put more distance between them. "No, it's not. Nothing's against the rules when one's true love is in question, right?"

He looks up at her and it's the first time he's seen her smile falter. She nods quickly and takes a sip of her beer, looking around the room.

Because he can't help but pick at the wound a little just to see if it's healed, he gestures to the rings on her left hand. "Where's the bestower of the crown jewels?"

"Huh?" Her eyes return to his face and then see where he's pointing. "Oh, he got a work call. He's out on the patio."

"Great. Can't wait to meet him." He grimaces when he hears how bitter the words come out.

She opens her mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, and offers him a tight-lipped smile.

He sighs a little louder than he intends to and rubs the back of his neck, trying to dispel the tension.

Part of his purpose in coming tonight was to show Veronica he's not the same guy he was six years ago. Something he has yet to make clear.

He clears his throat and shifts his body slightly to stand in her line of sight. "Veronica, I want to apologize for what happened -"

She cuts him off as soon as she realizes what he's about to say and shakes her head. "No need, Logan. It was a long time ago."

He can't remember a time when Veronica Mars didn't want answers and it throws him for a second, but he tries again. "If I could just explain -"

Again, she doesn't let him continue. "Let's not do this here." She's drumming her fingers on her beer bottle and all but refusing to look him in the eye.

He takes a deep breath and nods. It won't do him any good to force her to listen to an apology she clearly doesn't want to hear. And he guesses he understands that, given their environment: a ballroom with four hundred of their former classmates, and him seconds away from meeting her husband.

* * *

_Seeing her name flash across the screen, he answers at once, not sure if he's waiting for an explanation or going to offer one._

"_What do you want, Veronica?" He's already exhausted by keeping his distance from her, and he's only spoken five words._

"_Are you coming to my graduation?" _

"_Now, now, where are your manners? I asked you a question first." The calm and detached tone of his own voice makes him cringe. But if she can be detached enough to sleep together one last time before she moves five hundred miles away, then he can find a way to pretend it doesn't bother him. _

"_I'm getting ready to leave for LA, and just thought we should talk about what happened yesterday." He thinks he must be imagining the way her words sound rushed, almost desperate._

_He clutches the phone to his ear, doing laps of his kitchen as he speaks. "Nothing happened. You were just selling something that I wasn't interested in buying. Maybe next time find a customer who hasn't already sampled all your goods." _

_It all happens so fast. The words are in his brain, then on his tongue, and then spoken as to completely dismiss anything she might be feeling. He hears her breath catch at his words, and he squeezes his eyes shut, hating that the insults come back so readily. _

"_I thought we left the slut jokes behind in high school."_

_It hurts him to pretend to feel nothing. If it was anyone else speaking to her like this, he'd kick their ass, and he decides to find a way to punish himself as soon as he hangs up. "I'm a sucker for a classic."_

_She doesn't respond, and he knows she's waiting for him to take it back. For a rush of apology to make its way through the phone line. He hears her breathing deep, but neither of them speaks. _

_He wants this to feel better than it does. He wants his cutting remarks to make them even, but it just makes it worse. He opens his mouth to talk, and maybe even confess, but she interrupts him without knowing it. _

_Now her_ _voice is calm. Detached. "Bye, Logan."_

_He sits, staring at his phone, wishing not only that he was the type of guy who could call her back now, but that he was the type of guy who didn't fuck things up in the first place. _

* * *

There's a stretch of awkward silence as they stand side by side, occasionally taking sips of their beers, looking around to find someone else to talk to, but neither moving away.

He doesn't know how long they've been standing that way, shooting each other cautious glances without speaking, when Dick approaches.

Dick's expression is contrite, and the shock of that alone is what keeps Logan from walking away.

He clears his throat and stands shifting from foot to foot. "Logan." He nods at Veronica and offers her a small smile. "Hey, Veronica."

She gives a half wave, wiggling her fingers. "Hey, Dick. You look nice."

If Logan is expecting a traditional Dick Casablancas joke about how he always knew Veronica had the hots for him, he's sorely disappointed as Dick just thanks her and returns the compliment.

Logan stares at Veronica hard, wanting to dress her down for even talking to him, but then he turns his attention to Dick. "What do you want?"

Dick blows out a puff of air, as if expecting this reaction. "I was hoping we could get a beer."

Logan waves his bottle in Dick's face, his jaw clenched, his stare unwavering. "I've got one. Maybe next reunion."

He ignores the way Veronica's eyes are bouncing from his face to Dick's. He sees from his periphery that her face is scrunched up trying to piece things together.

Dick sighs. "I was hoping for sooner than that, but it's your call, I guess." He backs away from them both, his eyes downcast

Logan takes a few deep breaths as he watches Dick walk away, mainly to stop himself from yelling, "Why didn't you tell me what he did to you?" at an unsuspecting Veronica.

When she starts talking, her tone is innocent, and he's amused she thinks she can fool him. "So, you two aren't friends anymore?"

"Nope." A part of him hopes that she'll press the issue. Because that will be proof that a part of the old Veronica who wants to know everything about him exists. And more than that, it's a chance for him to demonstrate that he remained loyal to her.

He looks down at her and can actually see her weighing her response options. Eventually, she shrugs her shoulders, and the disappointment he feels when he sees she doesn't care is sharp.

"I guess that means you owe me a thank you," she says.

He furrows his brow and cocks his head to look down at her. "For what?"

"For loaning you Wallace. Seems like his entrance into your inner circle came at just the right time." She pokes his chest with her index finger. "But I'm warning you, if I ever leave San Francisco and come back to Neptune, I want him returned to me in pristine condition."

He lightly brushes her hand away and then rubs his chest as if she's hurt him. "How do you know he won't be the one to corrupt me?"

She snorts out a laugh, and he notes that making her laugh is still satisfying.

"So, not that I'm wishing to be rid of you or anything, but don't you have other people you want to see? Mac and Weevil, maybe?" He's testing her again and wonders if she hears the screaming subtext, 'Tell me you want to be here with me!'

"Mac's company sent her on a three week business trip to Tokyo. She debated saying no for about thirty seconds, and Eli's not here, but I see him all the time." She makes the comment about Eli as if it's common knowledge and he lifts an eyebrow, making it clear it's not.

He wonders why she's being so nice to him. He expected a moment or two of small talk before she made an excuse to leave. The fact that Veronica is going easy on him makes him wonder if the way they left things all those years ago was actually an incredibly vivid fever dream.

"I wasn't planning on coming either, but I lost a bet." She looks embarrassed at that admission, and he laughs. He doesn't have a single memory of her ever losing at anything.

"We'll get back to the fact that the great Veronica Mars lost a bet, but first, explain that whole you and Weevs hanging out, thing."

"My dad got him a job with a private investigator in San Francisco." She shakes her head and takes another sip of her beer. "He's actually married and has a baby on the way."

Logan chokes on the beer in his mouth. He didn't think anything could really shock him anymore. But Weevil Fucking Navarro is married.

"Is he intentionally modeling his life after your dad's? I guess 'Weevil for Sheriff' does have a nice ring to it."

She rolls her eyes at him and then bumps his shoulder with her own. "There are worse people he could model himself after."

"Maybe I should move to San Francisco. Apparently that's the place to go to get married."

He tries to make the comment playful, but hears the way the bitterness seeps through.

When she doesn't say anything and simply exhales a sigh laden with, what he assumes, is passive aggressive judgment, he snaps.

He places his empty beer bottle on a waiter's passing tray and grabs a glass of champagne, downing it in one gulp, before setting it aside.

"Thanks for the invitation to your wedding by the way." He flashes her the okay sign, despite everything in his demeanor communicating that nothing about this is okay. "It feels really good to have one's remaining childhood friend pretend you don't exist."

She gasps in surprise at his anger before recovering. "What were you expecting, Logan? Especially after - "

He stands over her, leering, uncertain exactly where this new wave of hurt disguising as jackassery is coming from. "Don't you know you always invite wealthy people to your wedding because we give the best presents? I think I also still have a pair of your underwear I could have returned."

Veronica slams her empty beer bottle down on the cocktail table they're standing beside and pushes him away from her with both of her hands, her tone low but heavy with accusation. "God, this was a mistake. Why am I even talking to you right now?"

She turns around and crashes into a man who stands a full foot over her. He has dark hair, neatly parted and styled to the side, facial hair that is more carefully groomed five o'clock shadow than a beard, and bright green eyes. She looks startled for a moment, but then the man puts a hand on her shoulder, kisses her cheek, and she relaxes.

Logan frowns when he realizes that this is the husband. Fuck. He tries to remember why he decided two hours earlier seeing Veronica with her husband was a good idea. Wallace. He blames Wallace.

All of the anger coursing through Veronica's that was making her almost vibrate with feeling has left, her husband's casual touch calming her. She wraps her arms around the man's neck, stands up on her tiptoes, and places a light kiss on his lips.

Logan doesn't know what he wants to do more: flip a table over or vomit. He contemplates doing both at the same time. And the worst part is he can't look away from her arms wrapped around the man's neck.

"Sorry that took so long, sweets. But you'll be pleased to know that from my position out in the hallway I was able to pick my pony."

He turns her around and points over her shoulder to a tall blonde woman standing in a small group that includes Shelly Pomeroy and a guy Logan recognizes from his English class. "Her and him." The guy he points to is also in the blonde's group and Logan sees it's Rick Lowe, the captain of the baseball team their senior year.

Veronica looks over her shoulder at him and raises her eyebrows, shaking her head. "Not a chance."

Logan watches her search the room, uncertain what or who she's looking for. Her eyes light up at the sight of Wallace and Jenny still chatting, and seemingly getting along quite well.

She points to them. "Wallace and Jenny."

Her husband shakes his head at her. "I call bullshit. You have insider information."

"You're just scared I'm going to win. Again." She turns around and pops her hip, her arms folded across her chest.

"You'd like to think that, but I've got your number, and I think you're going to lose."

Logan watches her husband tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and he physically recoils, feeling bereft that she lets this guy do _his_ thing.

He wants nothing more than to leave them alone. He can get drunk, pretend this night never happened, and maybe call a matchmaker service the following day to beg their help.

He's not watching where he steps and crashes into the table Veronica placed her beer bottle on. It's not enough to send anything careening to the floor, but it does bring Veronica's attention back to him, which dashes his hope of a quick escape.

He wishes his discomfort wasn't quite so obvious, because Veronica is now looking at him like she feels sorry for him. This just makes it worse because really, this whole situation is so much easier to handle when she's mad at him.

Her husband's voice steals her focus from him again. He realizes that he still doesn't know the guy's name, and he doesn't really want to know it, because that will make him a real person and not just a nameless douche he's entitled to hate.

"Fine, I'll allow it. But, if I win we spend Christmas at my parents' house this year."

Veronica groans and theatrically rolls her head back, then snaps her gaze back to his face. "If I win we take a three day weekend away and you leave your phone at home."

They shake on it, and this man he loathes, pulls Veronica into the crook of his arm and drapes his around her shoulder. He extends his free hand, and Logan grudgingly accepts and shakes.

"I'm Zach."

Logan stops himself from saying, 'I'm Logan, and you're wearing my ring' and settles for giving his first name only.

Zach's eyes go wide in understanding. "The ex-boyfriend, Logan?"

Despite finding nothing funny about the situation, a chuckle escapes his lips, and he shrugs. "Is that how I'm being described?" He stares at Veronica while speaking. "How exciting."

Veronica ignores that little comment and pulls on Zach's arms a little. He looks down at her, his brow furrowed, his gaze questioning. "You tugged?"

She smiles at him and gestures with her head that she wants to go to the other side of the room. Logan notices she hasn't actually looked at him since Zach's arrival, and he figures even this new Veronica who is pretending everything is fine between them, has reached her limit.

"Come on." She gestures towards a tall, thin girl with long brown hair that reaches down to her waist. "I once saved that girl's dog from a dog-napping ring. I want to see your face as she tells you how awesome I am."

If Logan didn't know her as well as he does, he'd buy this excuse as genuine, but as it is, he can see that this is her way of truncating an 'ex-boyfriend meet current-husband' interaction.

The way Zach is staring at him makes it clear that Zach has no desire to avoid it, however, and Logan's thrilled to have his first solid reason for disliking this guy. It's clear that Veronica wants to get away from him, but to prove some point, her husband chooses to stay. Which, while it must suck for her, is great for Logan.

"Sweets, I thought we came to the reunion to talk to your old friends. Isn't Logan an old friend?"

Veronica grimaces and then nods, a barely audible, "He is," escaping her lips.

Logan wonders why she doesn't just contradict Zach's assessment and then take him to talk to all of her previous PI clients. When she steps closer to Zach, wrapping an arm around his waist, her eyes downcast, another piece of the Veronica puzzle slips into place: even Zach doesn't know about their post-graduation almost hookup.

It shouldn't, but it warms him that he and Veronica share a secret.

"So, ex-boyfriend Logan, anything I should know about my wife?" Zach shoots him a look and waves an arm in invitation, making it clear that he has no intention of giving anything Logan says much credence.

"How much time do you have?" Veronica's lips form a grim smile and Logan's face is radiant with the opportunity to put Zach in his place. He just wishes Veronica wasn't in the middle of it. "Well, I'm sure you've learned that hell hath no fury like Veronica scorned."

Zach laughs and shakes his head, already dismissing Logan's words. "Actually, I make it a point to avoid pissing off my wife. Because, you know, I love her and everything."

The implication that Logan never actually loved her is clear to all three of them, and Logan wants to say that he'd bet good money that he's pissing her off right now. Veronica's eyes squeeze shut, but she doesn't tell Zach to stop, and Logan irrationally feels an acute sense of betrayal.

He tries to smile, but knows it probably looks more like a snarl, which he's actually okay with. "You find that spot on her neck that makes her head loll back? It's a good one."

Veronica's grip on Zach's waist tightens and she snaps into action. "I'm pretty sure that's not what he meant by advice, Logan, but thank you for your concern."

Speaking formally, he salutes both Veronica and Zach. "Never let it be said that Logan, the ex-boyfriend, doesn't have a benevolent spirit."

The spirit of false merriment has left the group, but Logan couldn't feel more at ease. That is, until he notices Veronica running a reassuring hand up and down Zach's back.

Logan literally bites his tongue, figuring he's pushed the man's buttons enough for the time being.

"Honey, I'm thirsty. Why don't you go get us some drinks?" Zach and Logan both stare at her, well aware that she's making the suggestion solely to break up their pissing contest.

Zach grits his teeth, looks over at the bar, and stares at Logan as he responds. "There's more than twenty people in line. I think we can make do with champagne."

"Oh, I'm so sorry for phrasing that like a question you could say no to." She stands with her hand on her hip, and the heat of her gaze brings Zach's focus back to her face.

It thrills Logan to see that the Veronica who fights her own battles remains.

Zach laughs, and then lowers his head to whisper in a voice loud enough for Logan to hear. "You sure you'll be fine?"

"Absolutely. I'll join you in a minute. Just need to wrap things up with Logan." She throws him an easy smile, and Zach nods in acquiescence.

Looking at the long line again, Zach sighs and shakes his head. "I'll be back in five, ten years max." He places another kiss on her cheek and backs away.

"It was so nice to meet you, Zach! Next time you guys are in town, let's do lunch." Logan breaks into a wide grin as Zach scowls at him.

The moment Zach turns around, all the energy Logan mustered to fuel his bravado is gone. He knows Veronica sees the way he almost goes limp, which is the only explanation for why she doesn't lay into him for his behavior.

From Wallace he's learned the following about Veronica and Zach: they met at the news station in San Francisco where Veronica interned right after graduation. They didn't date until they both, by some stroke of fate, got jobs at the San Francisco Chronicle within four months of one another. He apparently asked her out for close to nine months before she finally said yes. They dated for a year, and they've now been married for a year and a half.

"So that's your husband." His voice is lower and more tentative than he would like.

She squeezes her eyes shut. "Yeah, that's him. And you can stop being an ass any time now. He's a good man." She looks up to the ceiling of the room and then brushes a lock of hair from her eyes.

Logan gestures to the line where Zach now stands, chatting amiably with several of the people he's standing near. All women, Logan notes, and then looks back at Veronica. "What's with that little bet you guys made?"

She laughs and mindlessly adjusts the strap of her dress. "Whenever we go to parties like this, we guess who the first people will be to leave together. I'm nine for twelve, so I don't really know how he thinks he's going to win this one."

Logan snaps his fingers and points a finger to the sky in realization. "He's the one you lost the bet to, isn't he?"

She nods and he smiles, a dark little smirk, this new information providing new fuel for his dislike. "Classy move tricking you into interacting with a bunch of people who made your adolescence hell. Where do I submit his nomination for husband of the year?"

She huffs out a breath, her eyes flinty and unyielding. "Knock it off, Logan. I feel like I'm being pretty understanding, given the circumstances."

He gives a little self-deprecating shrug, but he's actually smiling on the inside. It sounds so much like something she'd say to him ten years ago that it actually makes him nostalgic.

She swings her arms back and forth, and then stops their movement to clasp her hands behind her back. "Are you seeing anyone?"

He looks at her closely, to see if there's any discomfort in her face as she asks this, and then scolds himself. Why would there be? "I see a lot of people. Nothing serious. What's your new last name, anyway?"

"Zach's last name is Wild. I hyphenated."

"Fuck, seriously? Your name is Veronica Mars-Wild?" She nods and his expression is grim. He always thought 'Logan Echolls' was a solid name, but it doesn't hold a candle to 'Zachary Wild.' "You sound like a Bond villain."

She chuckles, but it's not even remotely sincere.

"I remember you issuing an edict in college that you were never getting married. Guess you were just waiting for the right guy to come along huh?" It's not the question he actually wants to ask, but he doesn't think it's okay to ask a married woman if she still thinks of him.

She stares at him, and he thinks she must hear the actual question based on how her features soften. "I also thought I was going to join the FBI and that Nickleback wasn't all that bad." She shrugs like this all so easy to say, but he hears the heft behind her words. "People grow up."

He nods, but he's not really listening anymore, because his mind is busy comparing himself to Zach. He's 6'0", Zach is close to 6'2". He fucked around for a while then started his own company with inherited money, Zach earned his position as a staff writer. Both of his parents are dead, Zach has parents to spend holidays with. And here's the clincher: He messed things up with Veronica, Zach is married to her.

Zach wins.

He wonders how long Veronica and Zach dated before they slept together. Wonders if Keith likes him. If she lies to him, or tells the full truth at all times. If she's ever tracked his cell phone.

Veronica doesn't say anything, and he can feel how things have taken a turn. He's feeling insecure, and they both know he does and says dumbass things when he's feeling that way.

He's trying desperately to relax, but staring at Zach as he stands in line isn't helping.

Especially when he sees the guy help a woman readjust the clasp on her necklace so it's behind her neck. Another woman slips Zach her business card and he surreptitiously puts it in his pocket before catching Logan's eye. Zach freezes for a second, but then gives Logan a grim smile and rolls his eyes, trying to downplay the situation.

He thinks that maybe he could handle this whole situation better if the guy who she was married to wasn't so clearly a dog. Because he knows he's done a lot of terrible things to her, but cheating was never one of them. He hates her a little for falling in love with a guy who does, because that means she's not the shrewd and smart girl he remembers.

"Can I throw my hat in the ring?"

She raises an eyebrow at this question that comes out of nowhere, but before she can ask him to clarify, he continues.

"I want to hazard a guess as to who is going to hookup." His tone is at once sarcastic and casual, and he can tell the mixture confuses her.

"Sure. I guess that's fine. What do you want to win?" Her eyes are narrowed, and she takes a small step back, probably because she can tell he's plotting something.

"You have to say the words, 'Logan, you were right.'" He folds his arms over his chest, no longer disguising the edge to his words.

Her laugh is brittle, her words cautious, trying to find the trap he's setting. "That's it?"

He nods and she shrugs her shoulders in acceptance. He turns her around to face the drink line and points to the woman who handed Zach her business card. "Her."

An admonishing voice is sounding loud in his head, telling him to stop this. Telling him that he's better than this. Curiously, the voice sounds a lot like Veronica's. He shakes his head to clear it away, and continues.

Veronica nods and he leans forward a little more so he's pressed up against her. She stiffens, and he laughs. Pointing to Zach he finishes, "And him."

She forces him to back away by hitting him with her elbow. "Very funny, Logan."

He looks at her innocently, placing his hands over her chest. "Who said I was joking?" He gestures to the expanse of the room and the people around them. "At the end of the night, let's take a survey of all the women in the room. Your husband will probably have hit on half of them."

She rolls her eyes, places a hand on her hip, and gives him a pointed look. "He's a flirt, Logan, that's all. Apparently I have a type."

He can feel his face grow hot at the way Veronica actually thinks he is at all similar to sleaze that she's married to. More than that, he's pissed that she so easily dismisses Zach's flirtatious behavior, but never extended the same courtesy to him. Because ostensibly, Zach is the guy you trust, and he's not.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, fisting his mother's lighter in a tight grip, and tries to keep the anger from his voice. "I think it's pretty obvious to everyone around us that your husband is cheating on you."

"Remember how I was a PI for six years and tailed cheating husbands for a living? I'd know." Her fingernails dig crescent shapes into her skin as she speaks.

He laughs at her, and relishes the way her face contorts at the sound. "You only saw the husbands with their bit on the side. You never actually saw them with their wives. It might not be tonight, but sometime this weekend, Zach is going to make an excuse so he can slip away from you, and into her."

She narrows her eyes at him, and clenches her fists. Her chest is heaving with anger, and he actually admires her for the way she's maintaining control. She speaks through gritted teeth, and Logan observes that if it wasn't for that, she'd be yelling. "Fuck you, Logan. Just because you're miserable doesn't mean you get to tear my life apart."

She turns around quickly, and Logan follows after her, not wanting the rest of the room to hear their conversation.

"Well, I'd rather be miserable than have a total joke for a marriage."

This freezes her to her spot, and he doesn't know if she's going to face him again or keep moving towards Zach. With a calculated deliberateness, she turns around, and her smile is almost manic. She starts laughing, but it's weak, and Logan can see the tears in the corners of her eyes.

It's the tears that make him realize just what he's doing. Her mom cheated on her dad. His dad cheated on his mom. So, while it might be true, it's utterly cruel of him to throw this particular fact in her face like it's a joke.

He doesn't know if he's ever regretted anything more. Because tonight he saw Veronica happy, and laughing, and now he's taking that away from her simply because she had the gall to move on with her life.

"My marriage is a joke? Really, Logan?" She rubs her hands together, and crosses her arms. "A joke like your graduation party was a joke?"

Logan moves to turn away, but her reflexes are quick, and she grabs hold of his arm, squeezing tight.

Her voice cracks as she starts to talk, but it gains strength as the words pour out of her. "You basically called me a slut and then took six months to even attempt to apologize, so you can stop acting like the victim any time now."

She drops his arm, and he figures he owes her the chance to scream and rail at him. He tries to shut off his brain from taking in all of her words and maybe protect himself a little from where he knows this is going.

"You really fucked us up, Logan. Do you know how stupid I felt thinking that was our chance to start over?" Her pause to take a shaky breath allows plenty of time for the implication of her words to hit him.

The only reason he's been able to think about his graduation day without throwing up is because he's convinced himself it didn't mean anything to her. Hearing Veronica contradict that self-deception makes his stomach turn.

His eyes dart to the left and right, checking to see if anyone has noticed the intensity of their conversation, but no one is paying them any attention. He can't even use the need to be discrete as an excuse to get her to stop.

"Even worse than that, I still managed to convince myself that you were going to show up to my graduation."

His eyes widen at this piece of new information. Despite everything, she still had faith he'd come through.

She draws an invisible circle around her face with her index finger. "This is the face of delusion right here."

He interrupts, rushing forward to try and fix this, if not with a touch than an explanation. "Veronica, I'm sorry, but -"

She silences him with a look, and raises her voice to talk over him. "I actually decided that if you showed up and apologized, I'd forgive you. Because you always did that for me." Her shoulders are rigid, trying to maintain some semblance of control, and she wipes at her eyes to get rid of the tears that have gathered there.

For his part, he can't speak, not because there aren't words he could offer, but because he missed his window long ago to say any of them. He looks her in the eye, because he owes her that at the very least.

"But you didn't." The words are so quiet he almost doesn't hear them.

He reaches his hand out to take hold of her elbow, but she jerks her arm away before he can get close enough.

Then it's like she flicks a switch, and her gaze is hard and resolute, her tone laced with steel. "You didn't want me, Logan. So don't punish me for finding someone who did."

He needs to find a way to tell her that he's always wanted her. That he still wants her. That he foolishly misread the situation and it was a just a misguided act of self-preservation. That after he said those things to her on the phone, he drank until the image of her alone on the couch no longer tortured him.

But she doesn't give him the chance.

She turns around and heads straight for Zach, who is holding their drinks and standing with Wallace and Jenny, all the while watching her interaction with Logan. He takes a step towards her as she approaches, and tries to fold her into a hug, but can't with a drink in each hand. She whispers in his ear and he nods, handing the drinks to Wallace. She hugs Wallace quickly, and then leaves the ballroom with Zach close behind her, neither pausing to look at Logan.

Logan watches them until he hears Wallace call out his name. He walks over and takes a gin and tonic out of his hand and drinks it down, knowing it's going to be the first of many.

He's messed up again, like he always does. But this time he won't wait six months to try and fix it. Because even if he didn't prove it tonight, he's not the same person he was six years ago.

"Man, what happened to Veronica? She was really upset."

"I'll give you one guess." Logan slams the glass down on the table and quirks an eyebrow.

Wallace groans and rolls his eyes at him. "Do you always have to be such an ass?"

Logan lets out a strained burst of laughter. "It appears that way."

* * *

Seven months later, Logan and Wallace sit at a sports bar, grabbing a quick lunch, when Logan manages to ask the question that's been on his mind for the past week.

True to the commitment he made to himself, he's called Veronica once every few weeks to try and apologize. His messages are always short, and she never returns them, but he thinks it's probably more important that she know he's trying to do things differently than that they actually talk.

The last time he called, the automated message told him her phone number was no longer in service.

"How's Veronica doing?" He takes a drink of his beer and wipes his mouth with his hand.

Wallace bobs his head from side to side and his face screws up a little. "She's doing better. Her dad and I were worried for a while, but she's in angry-Veronica mode now, so we figure in a weird way, she's okay."

Logan crinkles his forehead and doesn't wait to swallow the food in his mouth before asking, "What are you talking about?" He hopes to god it's not what he suspects.

Setting down his beer bottle, he grimaces. "Shit, I forgot I wasn't supposed to say anything. I just – I just, oh she's going to kill me."

Logan shrugs. "Well, if you're going to die anyway, you might as well tell me."

Clearing his throat, he kneads his hands together, clearly unsure if he should. Finally, he exhales. "Zach cheated on Veronica. Their divorce was just finalized last week."

The beer in Logan's throat sits there for a second, before he's able to force himself to swallow. "Shit." Well that explains the changed phone number, at least.

"Yeah, you're telling me. I thought Keith was going to book the first flight to San Fran and kick the guy's ass." Wallace shakes his head and takes a large bite of his burger.

Logan's more than a little stunned by this revelation because, as certain as he'd been he was right, he hadn't wanted to be. Not really.

He knows rationally he's not the one to blame for Veronica's marriage ending, but he still feels guilty.

He takes a deep breath and presses his hands down on the tabletop. "Wallace, you still want to know what happened between me and Veronica all those years ago?"

He offers up a silent plea to whoever may be listening to prevent Wallace from punching him, and at Wallace's nod, starts talking. "Okay, well, after everyone left the graduation party - "

* * *

**A/N 3: **I promise, everything will be okay! Would love to hear your thoughts in a review. Even if you use colorful Shakespearean insults like "Thou art an artless strumpet!"

**A/N 4: **Working on "I Know That Face", and hope to have a new chapter posted by early next week.


	2. Fifteen Year Reunion

**A/N 1: **WOW! That's such a silly exclamation, but it's the best I can do to express how delighted (tickled, thrilled, exhilarated - step away from the thesaurus) I was to get the feedback to the first chapter. Thanks to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed. I couldn't believe it!

**A/N 2: **Remember, this is a three chapter story only. So, the third and final chapter will be up by Christmas. Probably way before that.

* * *

Logan Echolls has a plan. What's more, he has a single objective and purpose for the evening. Unfortunately he also has two very real and present obstacles he must overcome in order to accomplish said objective.

The first obstacle is a 5'4" woman with auburn hair that she wears at a much shorter length than she did five years ago. The fact that the woman in question is three months pregnant makes her a bit of a wild card. Hormones and all that.

The second obstacle is a 5'7" man who, while normally rational and understanding, is most assuredly going to fight with Logan the moment he learns of his intentions for the evening. Which is why a side objective for the evening is to bait this man as much as possible. Because, why not?

Logan knocks on the door, his mouth already forming around the words that will be his explanation, but the sound of footsteps and crying tells him that one of his obstacles is going to be distracted, which only works to his advantage.

In one smooth motion, Jenny both opens the door and hands Logan a screaming child. He's thrown off for only a second before he recovers and shifts the child to rest on his hip, bouncing him gently.

"Can you hold Sammy while I fix his dinner?"

When Logan looks up from Sammy's face, turned red from prolonged crying, he is met by the sight of Jenny's back retreating into the kitchen. Which tells him the question was actually rhetorical. He doesn't mind in the slightest, though, because he loves this kid, a lot. He just doesn't love getting drooled on.

Keeping the door slightly ajar, Logan walks into the house and continues to bounce Sammy until his sobs calm to slight hiccups of air. "Damn Jenny, what did you do to him? I've never seen him this upset."

Logan smiles at the sight of Sammy's wet, drooling face pressed into his dress shirt as Jenny's voice carries in from the kitchen.

"Oh, you know, told him he wasn't allowed to have any women over while we were out. He got real mad."

In a voice loud enough for Jenny to hear, Logan talks to Sammy. "Don't worry kid, you stick with me and I'll teach you all sorts of things. First, you have to stop sleeping in your parent's room. It makes sneaking women into the house exponentially more difficult."

He hears the clash of something being thrown into the sink and, a few seconds later, Jenny walks back into the living room with a plate.

"Logan, stop corrupting my sixteen-month-old."

Logan follows her into the dining room and watches as she sets up Sammy's high chair. "You say corrupting, I say educating. Besides, studies show that the best way to help children build a rich vocabulary is to speak to them in full and complete sentences."

She puts her arms out to take Sammy and, after placing a kiss on his head, Logan hands him to her. She's still distracted, this time by buckling Sammy in his chair, and Logan knows that's the only reason she has yet to comment on his attire.

When Sammy starts feeding himself grapes and pieces of grilled chicken, clearly more content now that he gets to eat dinner, Jenny turns her attention to Logan. Her face screws up as she takes in his appearance. Rather than immediately saying anything, she shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

"You're wearing a suit."

Logan appraises himself and fakes a shocked expression. "Hey, look at that, I am."

"I take it this means you're not babysitting for us tonight?" She bends down to pick a piece of broccoli up off the carpet, a feat he thinks would be difficult given the height of her shoes and the length of her hemline, but she still manages to make it look easy.

"Don't worry. I brought a replacement."

She stands with a hand on her hip and the annoyance in her voice is barely controlled. "So, what? You picked up some random person from the side of the road and I'm supposed to be okay with them watching my child?"

"You know her. You like her. And she's been background checked." In a rare moment of self-restraint, he stops himself from adding that her lack of trust in his ability to find a babysitter is disheartening.

She sets the piece of discarded broccoli on the dining table and puts her hands up, signaling that she's not getting into this argument. "Wallace is going to have your head."

Logan smirks and shrugs his shoulders, ultimately relieved that Jenny's hormones have mellowed and that Wallace is going to prove to be the true obstacle that evening. One angry Wallace, he can handle.

Jenny takes a step around Logan, still shaking her head at him but unable to hide that her mouth is curving into a small smile, and stands in the doorway of the dining room. "Wallace, honey, Logan is here."

"I'll be down in a second."

She looks over her shoulder at Logan and winks.

It's moments like these that make him miss Veronica the most. He knows that she's close to Wallace and Jenny and, now that she lives in Los Angeles, gets to hang out with them frequently. He's never a part of those hangouts and dinner dates, but he wishes he could have them recorded for posterity just so he could see how Wallace handles having Veronica on one side and Jenny on the other.

Logan looks down at Sammy who offers Logan a grape and then continues to feed himself. In between chewing the grape, Logan whispers to the toddler as if conspiring with him. "Sammy, your dad is about to get real mad at Uncle Logan. You got my back?"

Sammy lets out a string of gibberish which, while possibly discernible to Wallace and Jenny, leaves Logan confused. He accepts another grape from the toddler and interprets that gesture as an emphatic 'yes' of solidarity.

Jenny's voice steals his attention from Sammy. "Did I mention that Logan is wearing a suit?"

Wallace's response is immediate. "Ah, hell no. He is not going." The sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs makes Logan want to laugh, but he tries to stifle it.

He's unsuccessful once confronted with Wallace storming into the dining room, his eyes ablaze and his posture tense.

Wallace takes in the sight of Logan, chuckling to himself, dressed for the evening while his son happily eats his dinner, completely oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. He points an accusing finger at Logan. "We talked about this."

Scratching his temple, his brow furrowed as if trying to remember, Logan cocks his head. "Really? I don't remember that discussion."

"You're supposed to be babysitting."

Logan raises an eyebrow, trying to communicate the absurdity of Wallace's thought process. Like he'd really let a small obligation like that get in his way. "I found a replacement."

Wallace folds his arms across his chest. "Really? Where is she?"

Logan turns around when something hits his back and finds that Sammy, unsatisfied with being ignored by three people, has thrown a grape at him. Shaking his head, he picks it up and sets it on the table. "Nuh uh, Sammy. Food is not for throwing. Unless it's whipped cream. Or chocolate sauce. Then it's less 'throwing' and more, let's go with, 'drizzling'."

Clearly appeased now that he is the center of someone's attention again, Sammy continues to eat.

"Logan!" The eye roll in Wallace's tone is actually audible. He still stands with his arms across his chest and is doing his best to look imposing.

Jenny doesn't look at all concerned, however, and is reapplying her lip gloss in the mirror hanging on the dining room wall.

"My replacement is outside."

This gets Jenny's attention and she frowns at him. "You left her outside?"

Logan shrugs. "I cracked the door."

"Babysitters aren't animals you can just leave in the car with the window cracked." She rolls her eyes at him for the second time that evening, and leaves the dining room.

He calls out as she heads to the front door. "It isn't a window! It's a front door."

Logan hopes Wallace is amused watching the fight he is having with Jenny. That he'll calm down long enough for Logan to explain what's going on. But Wallace is still standing with his arms across his chest, and while it's not a full frown any longer, he's definitely not smiling.

Logan looks to Sammy, his only ally at the moment. "Sammy, is this what your dad does when wants to make you laugh? Try and look angry?"

Wallace opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by the return of his wife and a young woman with long black hair and an olive complexion.

Jenny handles the introductions, waving a hand between Wallace and the young woman. "Heidi, I think you've met my husband before, and obviously you know Logan."

Heidi extends a hand, which Wallace takes. "It's good to see you Mr. Fennell."

When Logan's replacement steps fully into the room, Sammy notices and starts up a constant stream of babble, kicking his legs.

Heidi smiles at his enthusiasm and leaves the grouping of adults to make her way to him. "Hey there, Sammy. Look at those legs; you're getting nice and strong little man." Without asking for permission, she removes the tray of Sammy's high chair, and his bib, and picks him up.

Jenny smiles at Heidi and gestures with her head at the room behind her. "Heidi if you wouldn't mind washing Sammy up in the kitchen. I'll be there in just a second."

The young woman smiles, bobbing and weaving her way through the people in the room. She catches Logan's eye before stepping out of the room and visibly blushes when they make eye contact.

He knows exactly how that storyline could play out, if he wanted it to. All it'd take to get her into his bed is an offer of a ride home. But aside from the fact that she drove herself, he seriously doubts that any of his friends would be thrilled to hear about his exploits with a 22-year old. Especially since this particular 22-year old is one of a handful of people that Jenny trusts enough to leave alone with her child.

The moment she's out of the room, Wallace turns all of his attention on Logan and his wife.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here? Who is that woman? Why is she taking my son away?" He points a finger at Jenny. "And why are you okay with it?"

She shrugs her shoulders and proceeds to look bored. "Why not? I mean, we're already growing another one. Who needs two?" She drops the jovial tone and fixes Wallace with a stare. "Don't you recognize her? She's Sammy's teacher at Little Gym." She places a hand on Wallace's shoulder and kisses him on the cheek, whispering loud enough for Logan to hear. "Let him explain before you tear into him."

Before stepping out of the room, she narrows her eyes at Logan. "I'm assuming you already paid her?"

He waggles his eyebrows and is about to make a comment but Jenny holds up a hand and her face contorts into one of amused distaste. "With currency, I mean, not with sexy dirty times."

He nods and winks at her. "And gave a generous tip. This one's on me."

She smiles, satisfied with his answer. "Damn straight it is." Before leaving, she reels around one last time. "But _she_ better not end up on you, Logan. So help me god."

Wallace, while obviously pleased with his wife, is anything but satisfied. He looks downright pissed, probably because he's concerned that Old Logan has decided to stop by for a visit, and his tolerance for Old Logan is close to zero.

Logan puts up a hand to stop Wallace from launching into a tirade. He grunts, and then waves a hand at Logan to get on with his explanation.

"Before you huff and puff and treat me like the big bad wolf, you should know she asked me to come."

He had thought for a moment about drawing that out; teasing Wallace with a fabricated reason for his change of plans. But given how the last reunion went, and the way that reunion impacted their friendship, this is probably one topic where any joke is unwelcome.

Wallace's arms drop to his side, and his eyes widen a little. "She did what?"

Logan's already pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his text messages to find the one from Veronica, to offer it as proof. He doesn't bother to explain any further, just hands Wallace his phone.

Wallace takes it, lets out a puff of air triggered by his disbelief, and reads the message from under his breath. "Logan, it's Veronica. Not sure if you're planning to be at the reunion, but it'd nice to have you there to support me. You know, for old time's sake. Also, you were an asshole last time, so I figure you owe me." He hands the phone back, his expression communicating that he's not certain if he believes the words he just read.

His confusion is justified, because Logan can hardly believe the words himself. A Veronica who admits she wants his support. A Veronica who wants him there despite how he treated her five years prior, and then six years before that. A Veronica who may actually forgive him.

"She sent that to you ten days ago."

"Huh, did she?" He slides his phone back into his pocket and then busies himself with straightening his collar, ignoring the way Wallace is taking deep measured breaths.

Wallace glares at him and shakes his head and, while he'd never actually do it, Logan thinks that he might be contemplating flipping him off. Instead, Wallace rubs a hand over his forehead and lets out a deep breath.

"Why are you telling me this now instead of ten days ago?"

Smiling, he puts his hands in his pockets and wiggles his eyebrows. "And miss the vision that is you, all riled up? Seriously for about two seconds there, I thought I might have been a little scared."

When he sees a look of actual annoyance flash across Wallace's face, he drops the act. His fingers do a pass through his hair, careful not to muss it beyond repair, and he tries to communicate sincerity with his tone of voice alone. "Wallace, think about it. If I was just planning to go for the sake of being a douche, I would have faked being sick and then shown up to the reunion. I'm trying to be above board here."

Wallace's face clears of any anger, and he almost looks like his rational self again. "Alright, Logan, you can go."

"How magnanimous of you."

"But you were just awarded your ninety day jackass sobriety chip. If being with our old classmates causes you to regress, then I am going to physically remove you from the premises."

Logan raises both of his eyebrows, and steps towards Wallace, reaching out to pinch his cheek. "Wallace, you are just adorable."

Wallace's only response is to groan and bat his hand away while Logan wonders if that comment is being counted against him on his jackass behavior score card.

But, he honestly doesn't care because he's going to go to this reunion. He's going to get Veronica to hear his apology. And when she's handed her alumna of the year award, he's going to clap louder than anyone. With both obstacles now successfully overcome, he backs out of the dining room.

"We're not carpooling. Mostly because I refuse to be seen in your Volvo."

Frowning, Wallace picks up the piece of broccoli Jenny had set on the table and throws it at Logan, who laughs as the broccoli sails past him and out into the hallway.

"Wallace, stop throwing food."

Logan grins at the sound of Jenny's voice. "Somebody's in trouble." He sing songs the words and, despite Wallace's annoyance, Logan is relieved. He didn't need Wallace's approval, but he wanted it, and kind of got it.

Even if it is approval coupled with irritation.

* * *

_It's not that Logan is anti-moping in general. Lord knows that he has indulged in his fair share of velvet pillow hugging and Dashboard Confessional listening. But it's one thing when that behavior is inspired by the loss of a significant other. It's something entirely different, and unacceptable in fact, when inspired by a completely platonic friend who one hasn't talked to in three weeks. _

_Over the past few years, Wallace has become almost like a brother to him. Which seems significant, except that Wallace isn't 'almost like a brother' to Veronica. They are siblings in every way, except in actually sharing DNA._

_So he doesn't know why, after telling Wallace the whole sordid tale of his college graduation party and then their high school reunion, he expected anything to happen other than what actually did. _

_It'd be passive aggressive if it wasn't so blatant. They're adults now, so there's no ducking one another in hallways or ignoring phone calls. However, each time Logan calls Wallace to hang out, he gets a "Nah, man, I don't think so. Maybe some other time."_

_It's the same thing he says to Dick every time Dick calls him, and it'd be funny if it didn't fucking suck._

_Moments like these make him wish he was an extrovert. He managed to fool people for a good number of years into believing that he was, but the older he gets the harder it is to pretend. He doesn't want to host huge parties with 300 plus people; he likes to keep his social circle small. That has never been a problem, until he kicked Dick out of his life and Wallace kicked him out of his. _

_It's Friday night, and there's a party he told some of his work colleagues he'd attend, but he really doesn't want to. So, he thinks he'll just stay in and watch "Fargo" for the fiftieth time. And then maybe go buy a cat, because that seems to be the path his life is taking._

_Having just completed an online test which gives him a 91% compatibility rating with a Chartreux cat, he hears his front door open._

_He weighs the possibilities of who could be walking through his door; there are only two. Since his door is locked, he knows it's not his easily confused, elderly neighbor. So that leaves only Wallace, to whom he gave a key in the event his plant (singular) needed watering during one of his business trips._

_Logan closes his laptop and stands up to head for the entryway. He's greeted by the sight of Wallace holding a six pack of Red Hook ESB in one hand and a large pizza in the other. Logan just takes the pizza box from his hands and walks back into the living room, setting it on the coffee table before reclining on the couch. _

_Sitting down on the other end of the couch, Wallace hands him a beer. His eyes flick to the TV, see that Frances McDormand is on the screen, and groans. He shakes his head, picks up the remote and flicks to ESPN. "I am not watching that depressing ass movie again." _

_Logan wonders if he's actually gone insane, if his acute need to spend time with people besides those he works with has caused an apparition of Wallace to appear, but he decides to go with it. He leans forward and grabs a slice of pizza. "Those of us with taste actually find it to be funny."_

_Wallace scoffs at this and looks at him from the corner of his eye. "Taste?"_

_They finally agree on "The Hustler" and watch in relatively amicable silence, with Wallace occasionally muttering "arrogant bastard" under his breath. Logan can't decide if Wallace is referring to him or Paul Newman. _

_After most of the pizza has been eaten, Wallace starts speaking without provocation, his eyes still fixed to the movie. "She's doing okay. Told me she was over what you did, so I should get over it too." _

_Logan didn't know if he was going to get an explanation, and now that he's gotten one he doesn't want it. Because it just makes him feel like even more of an asshole. After everything, Veronica still does him the kindness of making sure he has a friend in Wallace. _

_He takes a sip of his beer and sets it down on the coffee table. "Tell her I said thank you."_

"_I will."_

_As they hang out, switching from "The Hustler" to "Dogma", Logan comes to terms with something that his therapist has been telling him for months: his social circle has shrunk to the point of being unhealthy. His therapist uses the phrase 'co-dependent' with him a lot, but Logan has never really seen that as being problematic, until the past few weeks when he didn't have someone to be co-dependent with. _

_People who need people to the point they can't get out of bed in the morning aren't the luckiest people in the world, they're sad sacks. So, while he's grateful to have Wallace's forgiveness, Logan refuses to be a sad sack any longer._

* * *

There are several events of importance on the Neptune High School Alumni calendar. The 10-year and 20-year reunions are known for being wild and lavish affairs. Random hookups, drunken confessions, and detailed ruminations of 'the glory days' are all part of that nostalgic package. The 15-year reunion is more understated. Usually a sit-down dinner, it's attended by about eighty percent of the graduating class. Three alumni are selected each year to be acknowledged for achievement in their field. Their names are put on a plaque and, no one really knows why, but it's a really big deal.

Wallace, Jenny, and Logan create an impenetrable line of witty critiques and thinly veiled criticisms as they stand in the ballroom of the Neptune Grand, sipping on sparkling water (Jenny, and Wallace in solidarity) and Scotch.

Logan scans the room, not attempting to disguise that he's looking specifically for Veronica. As his eyes follow a blonde, who ends up not being Veronica, walk across the room, Wallace's phone makes a sound loud enough to be audible even in the midst of the crowd.

He pulls it out of his pocket to read the text he's received. Looking around the room, he points to a table on the far side of the ballroom, near the stage. "Weevil is saving us seats over there."

Logan wipes a hand over his face. "Oh god, does my agreement to not be an asshole tonight extend to how I treat Weevs?"

Jenny snorts out a laugh and Wallace looks disapprovingly at first her and then Logan. "Let's go ahead and say it applies to how you treat all of humanity."

"Is this a three strikes and I'm physically removed, kind of thing? Is there a tier system of the types of comments that will get me on your bad side?"

Wallace kneads his forehead with his hand, clearly exhausted by trying to rein in Logan. "Let's just say I'll let you know if you've crossed a line."

"So if I were to say, ask Weevil how much stock he and his family had invested in Taco Bell, would that be over the line?" At Wallace's headshake, Logan proceeds to explain. "Because, you know, they probably eat a lot of shitty Mexican food. Was that not clear? Damn, I might be getting rusty."

Wallace smacks Logan in the chest and holds up a finger. "That's one."

"Oh, so it _is_ a three strikes policy. Because that's not what you said before."

Another bubble of laughter escapes Jenny's throat and she just shrugs when Wallace silently pleads with her to not encourage him.

The three of them make their way to the table Wallace pointed to, but the feeling of his own phone vibrating causes Logan to halt. He removes it from his pocket and smiles when he sees it's from Veronica. This makes it the second time she's texted him, and yes he is counting.

_From Veronica Mars – 7:12 PM  
__I'm in the lobby._

The demand for him to come and meet her is implied. While he's a little confused, he's mostly relieved because this means her request the week prior wasn't a drunken impulse. She really wants him there.

He places a hand on Wallace's shoulder to get him to turn around. "V's in the lobby. She wants me to go talk to her."

Wallace frowns and is clearly about to give another warning, but Jenny punches him in the arm to get him to stop. "Holy shit, Wallace, would you lighten the fuck up? He's not going to do anything, okay?"

Logan takes a second to lift up thanks to the universe that Jenny's hormonal ire, now raised, is directed at Wallace and walks away. He leaves Wallace to soothe his wife with a gentle hand on her lower back and a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

Logan can't get his feet to stay in one spot, and his fingers are drumming an irregular rhythm on his leg. He's still holding a glass of Scotch and he looks around for a place to set it down, but he's in a table-less expanse of lobby at the moment.

He knows he's putting too much weight on the significance of the interaction that's about to happen. They can't fix everything broken in their friendship in a ten-minute interlude, but Logan is just determined enough to try.

He sees her sitting on a couch in the lobby, perched on the edge of the cushion, her feet crossed at the ankles. His breath hitches at the way she looks like _his _Veronica again with her long hair in loose waves, wearing black pants and blazer, and a scarlet silk blouse. She's preoccupied, texting someone, so he takes another second to stare at her. Notices the way her makeup is done like it was in college, appearing effortless in how it showcases her best facial features which, in Logan's opinion, is all of them.

He muses that he has to be the unluckiest son of a bitch to have his one-time, one-true-love actually look better at 33 than she did at 18. She hasn't gained weight, exactly, but even from where he's standing he can see the way the curves of her chest and hips have filled out a little more.

He desperately wants this woman to be in his life, and he's going to beg and plead with her to let him be in some small way. He wants to know if she still has those laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. If she crinkles her nose when she's met with a choice she finds displeasing. If she'll still playfully swat at him when he says something inappropriate.

He makes his way across the lobby to her, and she looks up from her phone to see him approaching. After tossing her phone in her bag, she stands and offers him a half-smile. It's not radiant, barely reaching her eyes, but it does manage to make him a little weak in the knees.

He wonders if this Veronica is going to be different than the one he saw five years ago. The Veronica five years ago was warm and effusive with both Wallace and her husband, and him to a much smaller degree. He's worried that his carelessness, coupled with her husband's callousness, has caused that to dim.

He wants to hug her. He knows that much but, as he stands in front of her, he settles on a nod of acknowledgment and a smile. The returning smile she gives this time is brighter than the one she gave when she first spotted him, and it actually makes him blush. He feels his cheeks heating up, and he ducks his head down. It's been a while since he's felt this way.

When he looks back up at her she's amused, but her eyes suggest she doesn't quite know what he's thinking.

He doesn't seriously entertain the possibility of telling her that she's beautiful; that her ex-husband was a fucktard; that he was one too but isn't anymore and he's going to prove it to her. There will be time for all of that, he supposes (he hopes).

She takes a deep breath, her eyes shoot up to the ceiling and then come back to rest on Logan's face. Then, hallelujah praise the lord, her nose crinkles up. That's still the same.

"Logan, you were right."

Those words shouldn't feel like a punch, but they do. He almost sways with the way their weight catches him off-guard, and he groans. Tonight he was going to show her that their interaction five-years ago was an anomaly, and with four words she's managed to remind him of how bad he fucked up.

She furrows her brow, unable to read his visible distress. "What? A lady always pays her debts."

His head rolls back, and then he looks down at her. "Fuck, Veronica, I didn't _want_ to be right. Not really."

She shrugs, most likely to acknowledge the fact that just because he didn't want to be doesn't negate the fact that he was. "Yeah well, I didn't want you to be right, either, if that's any consolation."

He laughs because, really, what else is he supposed to do? "It's piss-poor consolation." He rubs his hand along the back of his neck, and her eyes actually soften when she recognizes the familiar gesture. "I am sorry, though."

"For what?" She might be messing with him, but she looks genuine.

"You know, for ending your marriage."

He's thought about this a lot over the years. Sometimes cheating and philandering husbands realize that what they're doing is despicable, and they choose to stop. Maybe Veronica's husband would have done that. She did have a skill for reforming bad boys.

She laughs at his reason and shakes her head in what might be amusement. "Are you a 24-year old Pilates instructor named Jessica?" At Logan's blank stare she continues. "Because unless you are, you had nothing to do with my marriage ending." She notices the glass of Scotch he is still holding, and takes it out of his hand, throwing back the remaining liquid and setting the empty glass on the nearby table.

He wants to be offended that she needs alcohol to get through this interaction, but he's so turned on, he can't bring himself to care.

Focusing on the glass, he takes a second to order his thoughts. He doesn't know if her mentioning those facts is an invitation for conversation, but he's going to take it as one. "So, a Pilates instructor?"

"And his college girlfriend. But that didn't count because, let me see if I can remember this correctly, it was just a one-time thing and we had gotten in a fight that day."

His eyes go wide at this new information as he realizes just how badly Veronica was fucked over by this guy. This is a kind of betrayal he's felt before (three times actually, once just the year prior), and he hates that Veronica's felt it now, too.

"You didn't cause anything, Logan. I would have seen it eventually. You just helped expedite the process."

"So, what happened?" Because he has to know. He just has to.

She shrugs but her eyes flash with a bit of discomfort. If he knows Veronica, she won't talk about it unless she wants to. "At first he denied it. That line of defense lasted only until I showed him the photos. Then he tried to downplay it, telling me it was just a one-time thing. Finally he blamed it on me. Said I was cold and distant and he didn't have a choice."

He's actually a little shocked that she answered his question but, that feeling doesn't fully register, because he's concentrating on the tightness in his chest that developed from hearing Veronica's explanation. He allows his breath to escape slowly through his teeth. "Shit, Veronica. You know that's not true, right?"

She bobs her head back and forth, as if considering his perspective. "Yeah, I know." She smiles at him again, and he knows he's going to remember the night Veronica Mars genuinely smiled at him twice as one of the best in recent memory. "And even if it was, it doesn't make what he did okay."

"I can't believe you were the one to take the money shot." Her expression goes blank at what must sound like a condemning critique. "No, I just meant that it must have sucked seeing it for yourself. I figured you would have hired someone."

She stares down at her feet and shrugs again. "Despite years of therapy, my ability to compartmentalize remains intact."

He really wants to hug her now. Take her hand, pull her tight against his chest, and wrap his arms around her waist. This is not something she should have to fucking compartmentalize.

"You were right about something else." Her gaze is still on her shoes, but she looks up at him as she finishes her lead-in sentence. Her arms start swinging, and that's all the evidence he needs to know that whatever she's about to say is going to be unpleasant.

"The day after the reunion, at my dad's house, Zach said he wanted to give me and my dad time to spend together, just the two of us. He brought me flowers and cooked us dinner that night. I knew he was out with whoever that woman was from the reunion."

It must look comical the way his jaw actually drops, but neither one of them are laughing. "You let him go? You knew what he was going to do and you let him go?"

The laugh that comes from her mouth is one of the saddest sounds he can ever remember hearing. "If someone wants to leave you, Logan, you can't make them stay. What good would it have done to try?"

He knows that she has enough evidence in her personal life to support this claim. The first time she and Duncan broke up. Her mom leaving twice. Him throwing her out of his house. And now, her ex-husband.

Something about the way her tone is resigned, as if this is just the way the world is, saddens him, and he looks away. He really doesn't know what to say to make this better. Because he left her once, too.

"Why did you do it, Logan?"

When his eyes shoot up from their focal spot on the carpet, they meet hers and he sees a tear in the corner of her eye. He knows she's not asking about the reunion five-years prior. She's trying to cauterize the wound she received years before that.

He tugs at the sleeves of his dress shirt and jacket, and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. He wishes he was wearing a tie, because playing with the knot is one of his favorite ways to dispel tension these days.

"I felt hurt, and I lashed out. I wish it was a more sophisticated answer but that's all there is to it." He throws his hands up, frustrated with how unsatisfying the words are.

She shakes her head, her gaze staying locked with his. "Dammit, don't you think I know that? I can recognize your defense mechanisms easily enough. I knew you were pushing me away, but I still don't know what I did." She runs the chain of her necklace through her fingers, but her eyes stay fixed on his face. "I know it doesn't change anything, but what did I do that was that bad?"

Of course she knew why he had done it. Even if they hadn't known each other since they were kids, the fact remains that she is Veronica Mars. Her brain probably didn't stop whirring for weeks after that night, trying to figure it all out.

He blows out another breath through his lips and takes a step towards her. The words he's about to speak need to be accompanied by a touch. He doesn't know if he's earned that yet, but he does so anyway, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"I thought." He groans, both because of how touching her affects him and because he doesn't want to have this conversation, then clears his throat, trying again. "I thought that you wanted that night to be a one-time thing. That you wanted to sleep together and then go our separate ways. And I couldn't do it."

She steps away from him so his hand drops from her shoulder. Her brow is furrowed as she processes his explanation, and when she speaks she does so slowly, trying to understand. "So, you thought that _I_ wanted to use _you_ for sex?"

He grimaces at her pithy synopsis but nods anyway. Why is it that whenever someone simplifies and articulates his thought patterns, they just sound idiotic? This is probably another thing Wallace has learned from Veronica, because he does it all the time.

Her lips form a tight line, and she nods her head several times. "I don't know whether to laugh or be offended." She looks at him again, and then her eyes cloud over, and her jaw tightens. "Offended is winning out."

She's pacing now in front of the couch, and he can see her clenching and unclenching her fists, trying to calm herself down. He lets her work this out in whatever way she needs to, and when she stands in front of him again, her fists are still clenched. "You really thought that little of me?"

Fuck. He hates her damn martyr complex. Of course she thinks this is about her, when really it has very little to do with anything she did.

"No, I thought that little of me." He grabs her hand and she tries to pull back, but he holds on tight. "Veronica, think about it. You and I hadn't seen each other, or even talked, in three years and the first time we did, clothes came off. I knew you were moving to San Francisco." He lets go of her hand to tug at his hair with both hands. "I didn't think you were planning for me to come with you or anything like that."

Now he's pacing. Trying to figure out the magic combination of words to get her to understand. They don't come, so he settles for, "I freaked the fuck out."

"Poetic, Logan."

They stand there taking deep breaths, both of their chests heaving, and after several seconds he notices that their inhales and exhales have actually synched up.

Her brow is still furrowed and her lips are kind of moving, like she's repeating their conversation to herself. He can see the way she's mentally moving around pieces of their history together, trying to get them to fit together.

She exhales one last heavy breath and wipes a hand over her features. Once she does, the crease in between her eyebrows is gone. She cocks her head to the side, an almost imperceptible shake as she speaks. "You think next time there's a misunderstanding like that we could maybe, I don't know, talk about it like grown-ups?"

He laughs and, when she smiles at him, he gets to exhale too. "Yeah, that'd be good." Then he snaps his fingers, a thought occurring to him. "Actually, we just did."

She puts her hand up for a high-five. "Score one for adulthood."

He smacks it, the sound of their hands hitting reverberating throughout the lobby.

This isn't a new beginning. This isn't like high school when they went from acting like they hated each other to making out. They're not going to pretend the past ten years didn't happen. And he's grateful, because maybe that's why they never worked out before.

That's when he realizes he's actively hoping they do work out this time, despite the fact he has no basis for such a presumptuous idea. But that's never stopped him before.

"I'm almost certain I've grown out of that defense mechanism, by the way."

"Only took you thirty-three years."

He throws his head back and laughs. "I don't think I developed it until my early teen years, so let's say twenty-years, tops."

Her answering shrug tells him that she'll allow it. After a beat of silence, he thinks he hears her say, "It hasn't been the same."

He's not even sure that she actually spoke. Maybe he's imagined talking to her so many times that he can now cause her voice to mentally manifest. But then he looks at her, and she's staring back at him expectantly, willing him to take an interest in what she has to say.

"What hasn't?"

"Life, I guess. Without you around, it hasn't been the same." She looks a little embarrassed by this admission, and he spares a second to wonder why she even made it.

He figures, since they're being intentional about confessing thoughts and feelings they've had for a decade, that she's unwilling to keep anything hidden. Her confessions are absolution, and he still doesn't know if he deserves them.

"I mean, it's ridiculous. You were only in my life for ten years. And now you've been out of it for that same amount of time." She takes a deep breath and smiles at him again, disarming him with the amount of vulnerability in that one look. "I'd like you to be a part of the next ten. In some way."

It's possibly the closest she's ever gotten to out-and-out admitting how much she needs him. He didn't expect it in this moment – at the close of a conversation that has included mention of her cheating ex-husband and her cowardly ex-boyfriend – but he's grateful all the same.

This is the moment, he thinks, where it's okay to hug her. He pulls her to his chest, and at first she stiffens under the intimacy of the contact. But he breathes in her scent, convinced that if she didn't want him to touch her she'd push him away. He plans to hold her until she hugs him back, not caring how long that will take.

He's unaware of the position of her arms, because his eyes are screwed shut, but then he feels her move them to wrap around his waist. And while they aren't clutching him as tightly as his arms are clutching at her shoulders, he's going to count it as a win.

"Just try and get rid of me, Mars." He winces, not certain if the reminder of her un-hyphenated last name is going to sting, but she doesn't pull away.

If this wasn't her big night, he'd suggest they skip the party and go somewhere else. But if Wallace was against him being a total asshole, then he'd probably also be opposed to his stealing away the honoree.

He doesn't want to let go, but he feels his phone vibrate, and in his gut he knows it's Wallace.

_From Wallace Fennell – 7:29 PM  
__They just served dinner. V's going to be pissed if you make her miss grilled salmon._

He smirks at the message, and holds his phone out for Veronica to see. She smiles in a way that tells him that Wallace's assertion is actually correct and grabs her bag from the couch.

He doesn't offer her his arm. If anyone asks him to go over the events of the evening he will be absolutely certain of that detail. He just walks beside her as they head into the ballroom, his left hand in his pant pocket, his right arm positioned so his elbow happens to be angled out from his body. The fact that after walking a few steps she takes hold of his elbow is merely a happy occurrence. And if any tension in his chest recedes the instant she does it, well that's just serendipitous.

"You want to blow this whole thing off? Go get drunk on the beach instead?"

He knows she's not making a serious offer, but he doesn't articulate that. If he opens his mouth he's going to tell her that's all he wants and, before she can protest, pull her out of the Neptune Grand.

* * *

Dinner is more or less torturous. He admits only to himself that he finds Weevil's wife to be charming, and he bites his tongue so hard to keep from insulting anyone that he actually causes it to bleed.

The only saving graces of the evening are that Wallace isn't sitting next to him, so he can't kick him from under the table each time he feels Logan has crossed a line with his humor, Veronica is on his right and sitting close enough so he can smell her perfume, and Mac is on his left.

Her sarcastic comments, almost always spoken only loud enough for him to hear, are welcome tension breakers. Especially because they distract him from how much he wants to wrap an arm around Veronica's shoulder, pull her close to his body, and pepper her face with kisses.

Wallace and Jenny are the focus of the table at the moment, regaling everyone with the story of their reaction when they found out that Jenny was pregnant again. After finishing his part of the story, Wallace takes a piece off his roll and throws it at Logan.

Logan picks up the bread from the table and eats it. "That was uncalled for."

"If I ever hear you tease my second child about being an accident I will end you."

He rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his Scotch. "You're really at your idle threat limit tonight, Wallace."

Mac looks delighted by this reveal. "Oh, Wallace threatened you?" She threads her fingers together and rests her chin on her hands. "How cute."

"That's what I said." He puts a fist out, and without even looking, Mac bumps it, giggling as she does.

"Echolls, you've really lost some of your edge if Wallace here can keep you in line." It's the first time Weevil has addressed him directly, and Logan has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from responding. He doesn't actually hate the guy anymore, but he possesses an innate instinct to antagonize him that he doesn't think will ever go away.

When Logan keeps quiet and just takes another drink of his Scotch, nodding at Weevil, Veronica bursts out laughing. "What exactly did Wallace say to you?"

He shrugs, and looks towards Wallace as he speaks. "Something about physically removing me from the premises if I stepped out of line." He makes a show of leaning over to whisper to Mac, but ensures he's speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. "I know he can't actually do it, but it's nice to let the little guy feel good about himself every now and again."

Mac breaks into another burst of giggles, and now he just can't stop himself. He tried to be polite. He really did. "Weevil, you might recognize the gesture?"

Weevil raises an eyebrow in response and waves his hand at Logan to get to the punch line. "I mean, I assume your wife fakes her orgasms for the same reason."

Mac gasps, more in surprise than from any amount of horror, Veronica just shakes her head but is looking down to hide a smile, Wallace has squeezed his eyes shut, Jenny is oblivious to any tension and eating off Wallace's plate, and Weevil just nods his head in appreciation of the hit.

The most interesting reaction comes from Weevil's wife Tiana, who whispers something in Weevil's ear that makes him smile. She addresses Logan directly, her eyes alight with mischief, as one hand plays with the collar of Weevil's shirt. "You know that saying, 'I'll knock you from here to Tuesday'?"

Logan smiles and nods.

"Well, when Eli gives you an orgasm on a Saturday, you feel the aftershocks until Tuesday. Which is why my friends and I call him TD, for Tuesday." She takes a long drink of her beer, and then lightly punches a Weevil who might actually be blushing, in the shoulder. "And he just turns the cutest shade of red whenever I do."

Tiana squeals, and Logan sees it's because Weevil's squeezing her side to tickle her. "More like you do." Addressing the table, he explains, "She's got a bit of a jealous streak."

Logan wants to make a comment about Weevil being whipped, having his woman fight his battles for him, but at that moment Veronica steals the remaining asparagus spears from his plate, and he acknowledges he doesn't have any room to talk.

He wraps an arm around Veronica's chair, and she looks up at him, all faux innocence.

The way _her _eyes are now alight with mischief can't be good. In between chewing, she manages to get out, "What do you think, Logan? Should we share with the group all the private nicknames I've given you?"

The hoots and hollers of the entire table make her beam, and he can see the way she's daring him to try and stop her.

Sitting back in his chair, he takes a long drink of his Scotch, and crosses an ankle over his knee. After all this is the girl who's idea of a salacious 'I've never…' statement is 'I've never gone skinny dipping.'

She raises an eyebrow and nods, clearly impressed that he's not going to protest. She sets down her fork and rubs her hands together. "Okay well, one time after we had sex –"

Logan chokes on his Scotch and Wallace covers his face with his hands, groaning.

Maybe he underestimated her. He'd bet good money that a game of 'I've never' with Veronica now would be a lot more interesting than it was 16 years ago.

"—I dared him to dance naked, and –"

He stops her from continuing this trip down NC-17 lane by clamping a hand over her mouth, and whispers in her ear, "No more sharing, unless you want everyone to hear the real reason I used to call you bobcat."

At his threat, Veronica's eyes widen and she shakes her head emphatically.

Weevil, Jenny, and Tiana throw pieces of bread and ice at him, displeased that he interrupted the story. Wallace still has his face covered and from the corner of his eye Logan can see that Mac has smashed her lips together and is trying her best not to laugh. Most likely because she's already heard this story before.

One by one, he peels away his fingers. When Veronica's mouth is released she shoves away his hand and calls out in a quick stream of words, "He did a choreographed nude dance routine to SexyBack!"

Pointing at her, he responds almost immediately. "She growls when she orgasms!"

* * *

The actual awards ceremony is a lot of fanfare with very little substance. The new principal of the school, Principal Smyth, gushes about Veronica's accomplishments as a photojournalist and mentions the National Journalism Award she received the previous year. When it comes time for her to receive the award, all she will have to do is stand up at her table, wait for the spotlight to find her, and wave to the crowd.

As it gets closer for her to do just that, Logan can actually feel the tension rolling off of her and, without thinking about it, places a hand on the small of her back. Her eyes flick to his and he almost pulls his hand away, expecting her to scold him, but he keeps it there when she looks at him gratefully.

Principal Smyth asks Veronica to stand and she audibly groans, but only loud enough for their table to hear. Logan is about to start applauding as wildly as Wallace and the rest of the table but, before he can, Veronica reaches her hand down to grip his under the table and holds it out of sight.

He doesn't quite know what he's done to merit this. How Veronica still wants him around after all their history, but he's not going to question it. She waves to their classmates with her free hand while she waits for the member of the alumni committee to bring her the engraved plaque. She holds it up, dropping Logan's hand to do so, and poses long enough for the hired photographer to take her photo.

"Does anyone find it ironic that Veronica is getting this award because of her work as a photographer, and is now being photographed by a two-bit hack?"

Mac's question causes Logan to smile, and he makes a mental note to ask Veronica for permission to steal Mac as a friend, too.

The spotlight shifts back to the stage and Veronica sits down in her chair a little heavier than she needs to, letting out a huff of air. Logan wants to grab her hand again but there's no real reason to, except that he almost craves her touch. He doesn't know if she'd see that as a good enough reason.

Attention is on Principal Smyth again as he praises the work of the second award recipient. Everyone at the table received the reunion invitation in the mail two months prior. Logan read with his own eyes that Richard Casablancas, Jr. was an award recipient, but he doesn't really believe it until he hears the list of Dick's accomplishments being recited.

Principal Smyth focuses primarily on Dick's work to establish The Cassidy House, an organization committed to preventing and treating child abuse, noting that it has served close to 2,000 children to date.

The spotlight shifts to Dick, who is sitting a couple tables away from Logan. He accepts his plaque with a little more bravado than strictly necessary as he waves and works the crowd. He rotates around, holding the award high above his head, and gyrates his hips as he does.

Logan can't help but laugh at the contrast between Dick's outward actions, and the actions of a man who runs a charitable organization. When he makes eye contact with Dick, he gives him a small nod of acknowledgment, and then holds up his hands so Dick can see he is actually applauding. Dick laughs, and returns the small nod, and then sits back down at his table.

He doesn't really think about whether or not this small interaction is noticeable to the entire table, but of course Veronica sees it. "The two of you are friends again?"

"It's a tenuous reconciliation." He moves to face her, and is slightly stunned when the action causes their noses to be mere inches from one another.

She smiles at his short answer, understanding both what the gesture and the words indicate. Turning her face away, she pushes the remnants of her meal around with her fork. "What made you forgive him?"

He shrugs, not certain how much she knows about the circumstances surrounding their initial fallout. She hadn't asked for details at their 10-year reunion, but he'd bet his Audi that she's tricked Wallace into fessing up.

"A wise woman once told me that people grow up. I thought I'd give it a try."

They've talked through the third award being presented to a classmate named Alyssa Petrie whose company makes stainless steel water bottles and donates some of the proceeds to clean water projects. Neither he nor Veronica knows her, but Jenny and Mac both say they had a class with her.

A few years ago he might have spent a large amount of time comparing the kind of work his small publishing house did to that which Veronica, Dick, and Alyssa, are doing. Along the way, he'd convince himself that his work wasn't enough. That it was insignificant even. But he's relieved to find that on this night there's not a trace of those feelings.

His inferiority complex still creeps up at inopportune moments, but it doesn't cripple him anymore. He can sincerely applaud his classmates and feel fine about himself. He's got a small group of close friends (six including Wallace and Jenny), a job he cares about, and while not currently romantically entangled, he's even managed a healthy relationship or two.

With dinner and the award portion of the evening over, the tone of the event changes. The music is turned up louder and people are drinking a little more freely. It's not drunken revelry, but it's no longer semi-formal.

Mac steps outside to take a work call, Wallace and Jenny pretend like they need fresh air but everyone knows they're calling to check up on Sammy, and Weevil and Tiana head to the dance floor, which leaves just Logan and Veronica at the table. He wouldn't mind getting some fresh air himself, but he's not about to leave her side. So he takes a few bites of the hazelnut semifreddo in front of him, before pushing it towards Veronica with a grimace at the texture.

Veronica laughs at the face he makes, and that's when he notices the laugh lines at the corner of her eyes and the edges of her smile. They're as pronounced as they were five years ago, but he feels like if he tried to kiss them this time that maybe it'd be okay.

"Not your favorite, I take it?"

"It's trying too hard." He picks up a piece of mint garnish from the plate and twirls it between his fingers. "Am I supposed to eat this?"

"I don't think so." She grabs Logan's dessert plate and after taking another bite, sets her spoon down and looks up at Logan. "Alright, I'm done."

"With dessert?"

"Yup. And this party in general. I've put in three hours. My public can't expect more." She reaches under her chair to grab her bag, and pushes her chair back.

He stands up, because he's a little surprised that, just like that, their time together is up. He thinks he'll hug her again, but she's walking away without even saying goodbye and his mood plummets instantly.

Taking deep breaths, he reminds himself that this isn't a rejection. Veronica didn't offer him anything other than an opportunity to apologize. The night went smoothly, and maybe that is victory enough. He didn't make her cry, and no one will be calling him a jackass in the morning.

But then she stops and turns around, tilting her head at him. Her eyebrows knit together, and she actually taps her foot. "Well, are you coming?"

"Huh?" He wishes he had a more articulate response, but she's clearly arrived at a place that is several steps ahead of him, and he's fighting to catch up.

"I thought we were getting drunk on the beach."

He pats his pockets, ensuring he has his wallet, cell phone and keys, and is at her side in less than three steps. This time his elbow isn't even angled away from his body, but she takes it anyway.

* * *

They don't actually end up at the beach, mainly because Veronica makes the observation that if both of them get drunk, then they'll be stranded in the middle of Neptune without a ride home. So Logan suggests they head to his place.

People, who are not Veronica, think that he is charming. He has a line for every occasion and a come-on for every type of woman. Except her. He can't seem to keep his shit together with her. Especially with this new Veronica who is still so much who she used to be, but is also steadier.

The words he uses to invite her to his house do a terrible job of communicating that he's steadier too. He's well aware he sounds like a prepubescent boy talking to a girl for the first time when he stutters out, "Maybe…we could…my apartment is close…if you want."

She doesn't show him any mercy, and responds, "Maybe…your apartment…good…drinking there?"

He messes up her hair by rubbing his hand quickly over her head and frowns. "I'm not a freakin' caveman, Veronica."

"Well then stop talking like one, Logan."

They drive separately, with Veronica following Logan, and as they take the elevator up to the fourteenth floor she makes it clear that she's hungry again.

He gathers ingredients to make grilled cheese sandwiches as she takes off her boots and blazer and wanders around his apartment, touching everything she can get her hands on. It actually makes him nervous to see her appraising his belongings, and he acts indifferent to cover up that he really wants to know what she thinks.

"This isn't quite how I imagined your apartment would look."

Handing her a sandwich and a beer, he feigns confusion and returns to the kitchen to grab his own. "You've imagined my apartment?"

She settles herself on his couch, her legs curled up under her as she eats. "In my head it was much more modern. One large open room, all white walls and furniture – " she trails off to take a drink of her beer.

Laughing at her description, he adds to it. "Clear glass vases with unnecessary silver orbs."

"Lighting fixtures that are just light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Exotic animal sculptures."

"Framed art that looks like it could have been drawn by Sammy but cost $10,000. In other words, you thought it'd be the den of a pretentious asshole." He raises an eyebrow at her and takes a long drink of his beer.

She looks like she's going to protest and then lifts her right shoulder in a half-shrug. "I'm relieved to be proven wrong."

He fakes choking on his beer. "That's a sentence I'm probably never going to hear you speak again."

"It's a one night special."

Her admission that she was wrong might be a one night special, but he really doesn't want her presence in his apartment to be. It actually makes his heart ache to see how comfortable she's made herself. He notices that while he cooked, she alphabetized his coffee table books by last name of author, and has gathered and stacked the coasters which were spread out among the tables.

She rubs her thumb and middle finger together to rid herself of any crumbs, and a few of them drop to the floor. He thinks about fake bitching at her, but he's mesmerized by the easy grace of her action. And each crumb that drops on his carpet is just a little piece of proof that she was here.

"Wallace told me what happened between you and Dick."

Maybe she waited tables while she was at UCLA, because her ability to time statements and questions for the exact moment he's taken a bite of something is unparalleled. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows down his food.

"I wish you would have told me," he says.

She nods but doesn't meet his gaze. She's running her index finger up and down her beer bottle, collecting the condensation that has gathered.

He thought that forgiving Dick was the right thing to do, but Veronica isn't saying anything, so he thinks that may have been a miscalculation on his part. "Are you mad at me for forgiving him?"

This gets her attention and she looks up at him, surprise evident on her face. "No. If I didn't want you to be friends with him I would have told you myself." She puts her beer down and then shifts so she can rest her head on the back of his couch, her face turned towards him.

"I figured if you could forgive me for everything I did to you, I could do the same." He leans back, his feet extended straight on the coffee table, and rests his head to look at her. "Thank you for convincing Wallace not to be mad at me anymore."

She tilts her head forward so their foreheads touch for a second before she pulls away.

"Why did you do it?"

She shrugs and closes her eyes. "The same reason I never told you about Dick. I didn't want you to be alone."

If the urge to hug her was strong at the ballroom, it's nothing compared to the urge he now has to kiss her. To cup her face between his hands and place a light kiss on her lips. He settles for running a finger along her jawline and then tilts his head forward so their foreheads touch once more. "Thank you."

She opens her eyes and a gentle smile tugs at her lips. "You're welcome."

Taking her hand in his, he runs his thumb along her knuckles, then traces the lines of her palm with his index finger. She jerks a little when he accidentally tickles her, and the squeal she lets out is enough to make him want to do something drastic, like tell her he loves her, or suggest they run away together.

She's more relaxed than he thinks he's ever seen her. Their faces are still turned towards one another, but her eyes are closed, and he's focused solely on the sensation of holding her hand. So of course he needs to interrupt the peace of the moment.

"Did you really love him?"

She squeezes her eyes tight, but she doesn't pull away. "Yeah. I really did."

"Well that sucks." It's not the most eloquent response, but its simplicity causes her to laugh, so for that reason alone he's glad he said it.

She opens her eyes and pulls her hand out of his grasp, and he figures this is the moment where they're going to say their farewells. But instead of moving away, she begins to run her fingers through his hair and he wants to hum it feels so good. "I didn't tell him that enough."

He shakes his head, trying to prevent her from blaming herself for any of Zach's actions. "Veronica, it wasn't –"

She interrupts him by placing a hand to his lips. "I know it wasn't my fault. But I still should have told him. It may not have changed anything." She drops her hand from his mouth and then turns her gaze downward. "But maybe?"

"Don't do this to yourself."

She's kneading her hands together now, and he wishes she'd just look at him. "I'm over it. I really think I am. But I wish I would have done that differently." Her hands stop their almost frantic movement, and she takes a deep breath. "I should have told you, too."

"Shit." Again, it's not the most articulate response, but it's all he can manage. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and places a kiss on her forehead, hoping she gets that this is about comfort and not an attempt at seduction. "I knew. You didn't have to say it."

She looks up at him now and, while she's not smiling, there's no tension in her features. Slowly she traces the lines of his face, starting with his forehead, moving to his eyelids, down his cheekbones, and finally over the curves of his lips. He's not entirely certain why she's doing this, and the amount of control he's exerting to keep calm is almost causing him pain.

"I loved you, Logan."

It's not a present tense admission. He knows that, but he hears it as one, which is the only real reason he has for kissing her. He keeps the kiss soft, giving her plenty of time to either push him away or pull herself away. They're tiny, partial open-mouth kisses, and he can't remember the last time kissing someone felt this intimate. He pulls back and gives her an appraising look.

She smiles at him and just shakes her head, turning her eyes away. "This is ridiculous." Her voice is so low it's almost a whisper.

He scoots an inch closer to her so he can speak directly in her ear, and places a kiss on her temple. "What is?"

"Feeling this way." She turns her head to kiss his cheek. "We're not supposed to feel this way."

He's kissing down the column of her throat now, and her hands are tugging at the hair at the base of his neck. "Says who?"

"The world in general."

"Fuck the world."

"Not enough time." She tilts her head back first, then the rest of her body, and he follows her until she's lying down on his couch.

He holds himself up so he's hovering over her, occasionally dipping down to kiss her, before pulling back to look her in the eye.

"This could be a mistake." Her tone almost begs him to contradict her, but he's not going to make this decision for her.

He kisses across her collarbone, shifting his weight onto one hand so he can undo the first two buttons of her blouse with the other, and places a kiss right above the lace of her bra. "Does it feel like a mistake?"

The way she's wrapping her leg around his tells him she doesn't think so. If that wasn't enough evidence, her hands untucking his shirt from his waistband would suffice. But he still wants to hear her say it.

"Veronica, is this a mistake?" He stops kissing her to hold her gaze. It must only be seconds, but he swears that wars have begun and ended in the time it takes for her to answer.

She shakes her head, bringing a hand up to smooth out the crease between his brows. "No, this isn't a mistake."

With agility that impresses even him, he jumps off the couch and tosses Veronica over his shoulder, holding onto her by the knees.

She swats at his shoulders a few times, but her words are playful. "Logan, what the hell are you doing?"

He kicks her boots out of the way as he walks. "Taking you to the bedroom before we overthink this to death."

"Okay." And then her body goes limp as she's draped over his shoulder. He'd be concerned that she passed out if he couldn't see for himself that she's wiggling her toes.

"Veronica, are you okay?" He looks over his shoulder to try and see her face, but her hair is obstructing his view.

"Mmmhmm. Just conserving energy."

She must think she's so damned cute, because her words almost rip a groan from his throat, and at the sound she starts laughing.

"Hey, look at that. _I_ just made a townie moan without using my hands."

Which just causes him to groan again. He can feel the breath from her chuckle on his shoulder and he never imagined that this is how the night was going to end.

This isn't a new beginning. He doesn't know exactly what it is, but he's going to trust Veronica on this one; it isn't a mistake.

* * *

Once he wakes up the next morning, he has the following thoughts in the following order: 1) need water, 2) need coffee, 3) the bobcat nickname still applies.

He doesn't actively think about having sex with Veronica again only because that's more of a consistent framework from which he operates daily. The sun is yellow, the sky is blue, and Logan Echolls wants to have sex with Veronica Mars.

Even while dating other women, something would usually happen to trigger a memory that led back to Veronica. He dated a girl for close to a year who sometimes wore her hair in pigtails on the weekends, but they never quite looked right. It took him four months to figure out that he didn't like that she wore them out to the sides rather than low at the nape of her neck.

He rolls over onto his back and is met by the sight of crumpled sheets and an empty side of the bed.

He's not worried. Panicking just because she's not still sleeping would be absurd. It's when he looks around the room and it registers that the t-shirt he gave her to wear is on the floor, but her clothes aren't, that he leaps out of bed.

Putting on a pair of boxers, he heads for the living room at a half-jog only to find an empty apartment. He knew that's what he'd find, but a part of him hoped she'd be there, sitting on his couch watching reruns of _Law and Order _and eating Life cereal straight out of the box.

Not yet awake enough to handle this information, he kind of stumbles through his living room and into the kitchen to get that glass of water. Concentrating on breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth, he fills the glass and gulps it down.

He's dealt with heartaches both great and small before. Sure, this one is going to go down as one of the great ones, but he'll get over it. Clutching the glass, he repeats that to himself like a mantra.

His eyes fall on a piece of paper lying on his counter. Picking it up, he sees it's a note written on an old grocery receipt that Veronica probably fished out of his recycling bin.

_Logan, I am so sorry. This has nothing to do with you. I promise. – Veronica _

Brush off by grocery receipt.

After pouring himself another glass of water, he flattens the note out and reads it again. He doesn't crumple it up and dramatically throw it away. He plans to save it, because when he discovers whatever it is that Veronica is inevitably freaking out about, he's going to milk this memory for devious sexual favors.

It's been a decade of false starts and miscommunications, and he refuses to let another ten go without getting answers. Maybe if they were still nineteen he'd let her get away with this but, they're not and, a plan is already forming in his mind.

If this isn't about him, and he chooses to be believe her when she says it's not, then he's not going to stop until he finds out what it is about. Because the fact is, he simply will not tolerate going another five years without kissing her again.

* * *

**A/N 3: ***Ducks and covers behind a retaining wall* Remember, Logan and Veronica are my OTP! Would it make this any better if I told you that chapter three will take place two months after this one? (I thought about making this a 20-year reunion chapter, but my beta forbid me. She said it was mean.) Review and tell me what you think. What do you expect V's reason is for skipping out?

**A/N 4: **Writer's egos are super fragile things. And my beta had to deal with a lot of my "please, tell me this is okay!" pleas this week. So, big time thanks to Scandalpants. Now to go work on "I Know That Face". I hope to have Chapter 12 of that story posted by next Wednesday. Crazy, but doable.


	3. 33rd Birthday and Twenty Year Reunion

**A/N 1: **Thank you all for supporting this story! I have loved reading every single review and each notice that someone followed and/or favorited the story was a little bright spot in my day. Thanks for working through the angst, rather than being repelled by it! I hope the conclusion to this story is satisfying for ya'll.

* * *

**33rd Birthday Party**

* * *

He's only been standing in the lobby of the Neptune Grand for ten minutes, but he's already contemplated leaving half a dozen times. As soon as Wallace arrives, Logan intends to share with him how much he fails to appreciate having to return to the place he and Veronica reconnected, a mere two months after the original event.

The gesture of throwing him a thirty-third birthday party is nice, if completely misguided. Wallace intended it to be a surprise but, when he invited Logan to a party in a suite of the Grand and Logan refused to attend even before Wallace finished speaking, the secret was revealed. Logan was told to get off his sorry ass and attend because Wallace and Jenny worked hard to put it together.

It's 7:10 PM and Wallace and Jenny still haven't shown up. It would just be a cosmic cherry of inevitable disappointment if no one actually showed up to his birthday party. The suite was rented for the night, so the option of curling up on the couch with a bottle of tequila is available to him. He can say goodbye to his thirty-second year by drinking enough to forget it ever happened.

After another minute of pacing in the lobby, he hears his phone ring and answers it, seeing it's Wallace. Logan can feel it coming; the casual brush off. Something about Sammy being sick, and Jenny not feeling up for it given that she's five-months pregnant. And he'll grin and bear it, because that's what the well-adjusted version of his self does. Sometimes he wishes he could regress for the sake of catharsis.

"Logan, where the hell are you?"

Logan takes the phone away from his ear and looks at it, frowning, just to confirm that it is in fact Wallace on the other end of the line.

"In the lobby. Like we agreed."

"No, I told you to go to the lobby to get a key, and then you were supposed to come up to the suite." There's annoyance present in Wallace's voice – there almost always is when they talk – but there's a hint of something else, too, which Logan can't quite read.

He's shaking his head in response even as he makes his way over to the front desk. "I don't think so, Wallace."

"See this is why it's so hard to be friends with you. Sometimes I think I should just drop your ass." He means the words to be friendly, a natural way of ribbing on each other like they do, but they freeze Logan to the spot.

It's only two months later and he's not okay with being reminded that he's a hard person to stick around for.

When he answers, his tone is bitter. There's no empathy, no understanding that Wallace didn't mean it the way it came out. "Well, then go ahead. There are some that make it look remarkably easy."

He hears Wallace suck in a breath through his teeth. "Logan, man, I'm sorry. You know – you know I didn't mean it the way it came out."

He's only five feet away from the front desk, easy grabbing distance of the key, but he couldn't be less interested in going upstairs. Wiping a hand over his face, he starts to back up in the lobby, intent on making a quick getaway. "I'm not going, Wallace. Not really in a party mood all of a sudden."

It's nice getting to make a decision without Wallace in front of him, trying to convince him to do otherwise. He makes a note that, from now on, all conversations with Wallace that are of a semi-weighty nature should be accomplished this way.

"If you come up to the party, I'll tell you everything I know about why V bailed on you."

It shouldn't be possible for one's blood to run both hot and cold at the same time, but it happens to Logan in that moment. He wants to be angry that Wallace thinks it's okay to use that as a bargaining chip, but he can't be too mad. If he had thought of it first, he would have asked for the same thing.

"Fighting dirty, Fennel. Impressive." He disconnects the call without officially signing off. While he's pleased that his birthday present from Wallace will include answers, he's also okay with Wallace not really knowing if he's going to show up or not.

In only a few long strides he's back at the front desk and asks for the key that's been left for him. On the elevator ride up to the suite he decides the first thing he will do, after pretending to be surprised by the party, is trap Wallace in a corner and find out what he knows.

While not typical 'party conversation,' Logan is okay with defying conventions. It's his party and he'll pick at emotional wounds that have yet to completely heal, if he wants to.

* * *

_Logan gives Veronica the rest of her Sunday to think she's shaken him. He'll lull her into a false sense of security, and then go for it. _

_He intended to do the same thing during their last big break up in college. He was going to give her a few days of time and space, and then set out to win her back. But, not knowing if he could handle losing her again, he went for a simpler path. An easier option. On his most honest days, he admitted that he was using Parker. _

_Even when he was at his most illogical, he understood it didn't make cognitive sense for him to feel betrayed by Veronica dating Piz. Except, after how much time he and Veronica had spent together that summer and fall, shouldn't she have been able to read between the lines of his actions? Shouldn't she have known that Parker was about stopping himself from going after her, not moving on?_

_He's experienced taking the path of least resistance, and it's led nowhere worth visiting again. This time he'll run headlong into resistance, certain that's exactly what he's going to find. But along with bramble bushes and ill lit paths, the path of most resistance might actually get him to Veronica. _

_On Monday he calls her three times. He leaves one message. _

_On Tuesday he calls her three times. He leaves two messages, both short._

_On Wednesday he only manages to call her twice. He doesn't leave a message._

_On Thursday he's back to three calls. Once when he wakes up, once after going for a run and seeing someone walking a pit bull puppy, and once before he goes to bed. He leaves one message. _

_On Friday, his first call is to his assistant to let her know that he won't be into work that day. He figures he'll let traffic die down, be on the road by 10:00 AM, and arrive in LA by lunchtime. _

_As he packs he calls Veronica again, not actually believing she'll answer. She hasn't any of the other times. He does find it unusual that his calls ring all the way through to voicemail. They don't ring a couple of times before going to voicemail like they would if she rejected his call, which means that it's likely she's actually watched the phone ring as he's calling her. _

_He finds this strangely encouraging. _

_It usually takes her phone seven rings to go to voicemail. On ring number four he starts planning out the message he's going to leave, uncertain if he'll mention his travel plans for the whole weekend. _

"_Logan, you have to stop calling me."_

_He's not expecting her to answer so when he hears her voice, edged by a hint of exhaustion, it takes him a second to recover. _

_He tosses the button-down shirt he's holding in the general direction of his duffel bag. "Well, if you would stop ignoring my calls, I wouldn't have to call as much." _

_She sighs but doesn't say anything, and he wonders why she even bothered to answer if she wasn't going to talk. He doesn't really care about her reasons, as long as she doesn't hang up. Scrambling for a topic she'll be forced to engage with, he settles on the one which he told himself he would avoid. _

"_I'm leaving for LA in an hour."_

_She groans this time and, when she speaks, she sounds almost hysterical. "Don't do that, Logan. If you come to LA you won't be able to find me. I'll go to a hotel. Hell, I might even pass your car going the opposite direction on the freeway." _

"_Just tell me what I did, Veronica." _

"_I already told you, this doesn't have anything to do with you."_

"_I asked you if we were making a mistake, twice, and you told me we weren't."_

"_And I meant it. But, after it happened -"_

_He feels this like a jab to his solar plexus and actually reels back from her words, stumbling a little as he steps back to sit down at the edge of his bed. "You had your very own coyote ugly moment. I get it." _

_He hates that he believed her when she told him it wasn't a mistake, because that's affected what reasons he's come up with to explain why she left. He thought maybe the pull that was always there between them scared her. Or that she was afraid that their history was going to make a relationship too complicated. _

_He didn't anticipate that she might regret it ever happened in the first place._

_The sound of her stifling a sob is loud through the phone line and he considers going to LA anyway, despite her protests. He doesn't actually believe that she'll leave town just to avoid him, and he wants to know what it is about this whole messed up situation that's causing her to sound like that. _

_But this is the part that romantic comedies leave out. Sometimes you chase down the person in the airport, meet them at the gate, and they say 'no thank you' and board the plane anyway. _

"_Logan, I'm so -"_

"_Let me stop you there. Especially if you're just going to repeat what you wrote on my grocery receipt." The silence between the phone lines stretches out for an uncomfortable amount of time, and he acknowledges to himself that he's waiting for her to change her mind. _

_When it's clear she has no intention of doing so, he puts an end to it. "I guess you said it best, Veronica. If someone wants to leave you, you can't make them stay. I'll see you at the next reunion." Hanging up the phone, he tosses it on his bed and then paces the length of his room, taking deep breaths to calm his erratic heartbeat. _

_Work thinks he's not coming in for the day, and he doesn't have much of a desire to call his assistant to tell her otherwise, so he settles for calling Dick. They still don't hang out all that often, and when they do it's an unspoken rule that Veronica as a topic is off-limits. Which suits his mood just fine. _

_There's a rock climbing gym in San Diego he wants to go to and he thinks that Dick will be easily persuaded to take a day off as well to go with him. Maybe, after several hours of climbing, the tight pain he feels in his chest will be replaced by the dull ache of physical exertion. _

_That night he returns home, exhausted. Dick is such an odd combination of eternal frat boy and grownup that Logan doesn't quite know what to make of him. After the rock climbing gym they grabbed a late lunch and then, because he still wasn't tired enough to stop the incessant stream of 'what ifs' running through his mind, went surfing for a few hours. _

_It's past eight o'clock when he returns home, flopping onto his couch with little ceremony. He sits with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other, flipping through channels, only stopping for minutes at a time._

_He's sitting in that position when he hears his front door unlock, and he swears under his breath. This should be expected, but it still manages to catch him off-guard. _

_Wallace walks in and Logan doesn't bother to acknowledge him. He intends to "Jurassic Park" himself out of this situation: just sit still and hope the predator leaves him alone. But when he hears Wallace sigh, he knows that isn't going to happen._

"_When's the last time you showered?" _

_Logan hears the note of disappointment, and his defenses rise to the surface immediately. "This morning, actually, I just haven't shaved." His eyes are still focused on the TV screen, turned to a movie with Bill Murray. He doesn't even bother to put the pieces of dialogue together to figure out which one._

"_And how long have you been sitting here?" The second question doesn't have as sharp an edge as Wallace's first one, and Logan acknowledges that Wallace is probably just as uncertain as to how to handle this as he is. _

_He doesn't doubt for a second that Wallace is already aware of what's going on. His best guess is that Wallace's arrival was prompted by a panicked phone call from one Veronica Mars. _

"_About an hour."_

"_How many beers have you had?" _

_Logan sighs and rolls his neck, trying to dispel the tension that's been present all day but increased in intensity the moment he heard Wallace open his door. Turning off the TV, he throws the remote on the couch._

"_This is my first, actually. Is the interrogation over now?" He stands up to walk out of the room, feeling like he's in a prone position sitting down, and notices Wallace's distressed expression for the first time. _

_It becomes clear to Logan that despite the series of questions, Wallace is worried about him. He's standing with his hands in his pockets, and looks like he'd rather be anywhere but in Logan's living room, about to have the conversation they're gearing up for. But that's the kind of guy Wallace is. He's willing to have the tough conversations. _

_Walking past him and into the kitchen, Logan takes a deep breath, and reminds himself that Wallace is his friend, too. Except the last time Wallace had his loyalties divided, he chose Veronica. _

"_I take it she told you then?" He tosses his beer bottle in the recycling and pours himself a glass of water. He's uncertain as to whether or not he's done drinking for the night, but he doesn't want to hear Wallace's cluck of disapproval. For reasons he has yet to completely figure out, he cares a great deal what Wallace thinks of him. _

_Wallace stands in the doorway of the kitchen, nodding before the words follow. "Yeah, she did."_

_Logan expects the answer, but grabs the counter anyway, uncomfortable with the idea that he's been talked about. And by two of the people he cares most for. "Did she tell you why she did it?"_

_Wallace's answering expression is grim and Logan knows, even before he nods, what the answer is. _

_Pursing his lips, Logan nods as well, trying to receive this information like it's just an interesting fact he heard on NPR during his commute to work. "You have any intention of telling me?"_

_Wallace doesn't speak, move, or blink for a good couple of seconds. Logan thinks the stress of being caught in the middle of all this has finally broken him, caused him to malfunction. But then Wallace takes in a deep breath, shakes his head, and in that moment Logan finds he's having difficulty breathing. _

_Logan's face feels hot, and he's actually nauseous. The reassuring pat on the shoulder he receives from Wallace tells him he must look just as terrible as he feels. Things don't usually get heady like this between them. There's bullshitting, and jesting, and the occasional deep conversation, but Logan has never let Wallace see him broken. _

_And given that they are both well aware of the reason for his current break, he'd really like to avoid it now. _

"_Goodbye, Wallace." He does his best to keep his tone light and jaunty, as he saunters past Wallace, intentionally bumping his shoulder as he passes. _

_The sound of Wallace's groan hits him, and Logan wheels around to face him. Where does he get off groaning like he's the one being injured?_

"_Logan, it's not my story to tell." _

_Logan sneers at him, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, it is mine to hear, and yet I'm the only one who doesn't know what's going on." _

"_I get that this is a shit thing to do, Logan, but she's going through something –"_

_Logan rolls his eyes, shaking his head and interrupting Wallace's attempt to defend her. "You know what, fuck you." _

"_Excuse me?" Wallace's eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms as he stares at Logan. _

"_You heard me. And fuck her too, actually."_

_He takes a step towards Logan and holds up a finger in warning, which just makes Logan roll his eyes again, a glib chuckle escaping his lips. He doesn't really mean it, and he's almost certain Wallace knows that. But acting flip is his lifeline right now, and he's going to hold onto it until something more substantial is handed to him. _

"_You should watch what you say, Logan."_

_Logan takes a step towards him and pushes his chest, not hard enough to hurt him in any way, but enough to get Wallace to take a step back. He's tired of being made to feel like an asshole. "And you should watch before you come into my house and talk to me like I'm the one who screwed up." It's not his intention to shout, or to let his voice crack on the last few words, but both things happen. "She left me, Wallace. She did this."_

_Just as quickly as his ire crests, it falls, and he just feels tired. After seeing her at their ten-year reunion, it took him close to a year before he worked himself up to date someone seriously again. He can't imagine how fucked he is now. _

_He ambles over to his couch and sits, rubbing a hand over his face, to purposefully obscure Wallace from his view. He throws his head back, leaning it on the couch, and just waits for Wallace to turn around and leave. In the absence of receiving answers, Logan just wants to be left alone. _

_Instead of leaving, Wallace walks timidly towards the armchair and sits down, keeping his posture straight. "I don't know what to do, Logan. I know what she did to you just sucks, but she's been my best-friend for half my life. I don't –"_

_Taking pity on him, Logan holds a hand up to keep him from continuing to explain. "I get it." _

"_I came over here to see how you were doing, not make you feel worse." _

_Logan chuckles again, but this time it is more genuine and he's relieved that he still has the capability to find things funny. "Well crackerjack job there, Wally." _

_Wallace is still tense, and Logan hopes they're done with the conversation. _

"_We cool, man?" _

_Logan nods, but then gestures to the door with his head. "Yeah, we're fine, but you should go." At Wallace's frown, he continues. "You're not telling me what's going on with Veronica, and I have no interest in pretending that doesn't piss me off."_

_Giving him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, Wallace leaves. Once he's gone, Logan sinks down into the cushions of the couch, his head actually throbbing as he tries to get his breathing under control. _

_He's never really understood what it is about Veronica that makes everyone in her life so damn loyal to her. As he lays down, a migraine either forming or receding as a result of the day, he admits to himself that if she called him the next day and apologized, he'd call it bygones and truly mean it. But he knows her, and that's just not going to happen. _

* * *

It takes Logan another ten minutes to convince himself to actually use the key, and he ignores two more calls from Wallace in the process.

Veronica sometimes called him a morose son of a bitch, but she always did so with a smile on her face and a glint in her eye, making it sound more like a compliment than anything else. He wonders how he can be anything but morose when he has friends who actually think it's a good idea to throw him a birthday party at the place where he and Veronica spent a good portion of a summer, and most of a fall, playing at being happy.

They haven't rented the penthouse, so there's that, but it doesn't make it much better.

Pressing an ear up to the door, he hears quiet inside. He feels a tiny pinprick of joy that his radio silence has made it so that there are fifteen people waiting for him, uncertain as to when he's actually going to show up.

He inserts the key into the door and braces himself for the chorus of 'SURPRISE' that will make him stumble back with its volume, but there's only silence. Closing the door behind him, he pulls out his cell phone and reads the newest text from Wallace.

_From Wallace Fennell – 7:26  
Get your ass up here. I'm serious._

Which means his fleeting hope that people got tired of waiting on him and left isn't plausible. He's not exactly certain what cover story Wallace told people he used to get Logan into the suite. Maybe he set up a fake business meeting with a new author? Or pretended that he and Jenny were at the hotel and got wasted, so needed a ride home and called Logan?

The lights in the suite are dim and he still hasn't heard a sound, which tells him everyone is probably hiding in one of the bedrooms and ready to jump out the moment he calls, "Hello?"

When he turns the corner of the hallway and walks into the living room area, he's met by the sight of a solitary blonde sitting on the couch, worrying a cloth napkin. It's then he realizes that _the party_ was the cover to get him up to the suite.

Wallace isn't here, and he's not going to be. Based on the number of calls Logan has received from him, his guess is that Veronica has been sending panicked text messages every few minutes asking him to check where Logan is.

Shoving the key card in his pocket, he fists the plastic and stands stock-still, contemplating the benefits of turning around and not dealing with any of this. It's been two months; he hasn't heard from her once, and he's a little pissed that she's sitting there looking beautiful, thinking this is going to fix everything.

Tossing the napkin on the table she stands up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Happy Birthday."

It hurts. It actually fucking hurts to see her play with her hair because it's so familiar. He'd also bet good money that she's biting the inside of her cheek, a gesture she often did to keep herself from saying the first thing that came to mind. Or to keep herself from screaming too loud during sex.

He can't do this again but, holy shit, he wants to. If he stays in the room for one second longer he may throw her over his shoulder, kidnap her to a deserted island, and pray that she develops a strong case of Stockholm syndrome.

With a shake of his head, he backs up out of the living room. He should probably move out of Neptune. Go somewhere Veronica Mars can never find him, maybe even outside of the United States, because he's doomed to be forever in love with her if he doesn't.

Her whole body tenses for a second, and then she's rushing towards him. "Logan, please don't go. I'm sorry I ambushed you, but I -" Her eyes go up to the ceiling and she clenches her fists. Shaking her head, he hears her say "fuck" under her breath. When she looks at him again, her gaze is calm, less erratic, and her whole body relaxes.

He'd give anything to feel as relaxed as she seems to be in that moment.

"Just give me five minutes. If you still want to go after that, I'll hold the door open for you and wish you well."

"You're about two months late, Veronica."

She smirks, and holds her hands out palms up, moving them up and down to mimic the movement of a scale. "Two months. Five years. Which amount of time is greater?"

She's already flustered him, probably without even trying. Running his hand through his hair, he laughs, because fuck if she doesn't have a point. There's no way she'll buy the "I tried to call you-" line of defense. It's half-assed at best.

Despite his legs feeling a little wobbly and his pulse throbbing in his own ears, he can acknowledge the significance of her coming to see him. That she orchestrated this with Wallace. The last time she made a gesture of this magnitude was also at the Grand, but then she was standing on the other side of the hotel suite door.

He just nods and then waves a hand at her, as if he is the one doing her a favor, when really a very large part of him feels like he's the winner in this whole thing.

There's no way she'll be able to deny that he is the sole reason she is currently in Neptune. He looks around the room, noticing the room service cart tucked away in the corner, as well as a bottle of wine and two wineglasses on the table.

For some reason it's seeing the bottle of wine that calms him and, what's more, convinces him that this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

When she notices where his eyes are resting she blushes, and gives him a half-smile. Vulnerable has never been her favorite way to feel and he's impressed that she's allowing it now. She could have hid the wine and food away until she was certain she was going to get a positive response.

It's enough to make him want to pick her up and head straight for the bedroom, food be damned. But the last time they were together like that, she left before he woke up. The thing he still doesn't understand about that time is that they did everything right: they talked, forgave one another, and left a whole host of things locked away in the past where they belonged. When he kissed her it had felt natural; the way it was supposed to be.

He doesn't honestly expect an apology from her. They're not great with apologies. He just wants an explanation and to have a little assurance that, before he gets pulled into this again, she won't bail on him without warning.

She looks over her shoulder, and then gives him a half smile. His eyes follow her as she walks over to the table the lamp is sitting on and picks up a red, gift-wrapped rectangle. She fiddles with the bow as she walks towards him, and then holds it out for him to take.

"This is for you." Her eyes screw shut, and he has to chuckle at how uncomfortable she seems to be. "Obviously."

"Can I open it now?" He holds the package up to his ear and shakes it as he waits for her answer. The dimensions and the weight tell him it's a book, but this was always a part of their game whenever they gave each other gifts. They poked and prodded until the gift giver would usually get frustrated enough to take the present away from the gift givee, making it so the gift givee had to beg for the gift to be given back to them.

But that's not what's happening. She's nervous, for some reason, and just nods as an answer. He unwraps the gift, dropping the paper and the bow to the ground without looking, and finds that he guessed correctly – it's a hardcover book. Flipping it over, he reads the back of dust jacket and furrows his brow.

It's a young adult novel about a high school student whose parents die in a car accident Christmas Eve, leaving him and his younger sister without any immediate family willing to take them in. Rather than be put into the foster care system, the two teens run away and travel across the country, searching for a new place to call home. Flipping it over to again view the front, he reads the name Brendan Roth and smiles.

"We tried to buy this book, I think. We got outbid." He doesn't see that she's moved closer to him until her hand enters his line of sight, opening the book to the front cover.

"I got it autographed for you."

He reads the words out loud, trying to make sense of the inscription. "Logan, I hope to be just like you when I grow up. – Brendan." Running his fingers over the words, he looks up at her. "Huh?"

"The main character is pretty much you. I told Brendan that, and asked him to sign a copy for you." Shaking her head, she gestures to the book. "If it's not your thing, it's fine. You don't have to read it."

He reaches out and takes her hand, holding her fingers tightly in his own. It is unacceptable for her to think, even for a second, that he isn't in awe of everything she's doing this evening. Besides, Veronica has impeccable taste. If she thinks it's a good read, it's bound to be.

"How do you know the author?"

Wordlessly, she takes the book from his hands and flips to the back of the dust flap, and then hands the book back to him pointing at the author's photo. "I took that."

It isn't hard from him to act impressed, because he is. Letting go of her hand, he shuts the book and tosses it on the couch. He takes a step closer to her, intentionally invading her personal space, and is rewarded when she takes a deep breath to steady herself. The need to be close to her feels like a biological imperative; something he not only wants, but needs.

"Thank you for my present. Despite it being a reminder of a professional failure, I'm excited to read it." As he speaks he purposefully breathes out puffs of air, tickling her skin.

"You're welcome." She swallows, and he smiles when she starts leaning her upper body back to try and put a little distance between them.

He's not even certain if she's aware that he's going to kiss her, but she must realize he's about to do something because she shakes her head at him and pushes him back with two hands to his chest.

"We can't."

Growling, he takes a step towards her, reaching out to grasp her shoulders as he does. "You bought me a present. Planned a fake surprise party. Are hopefully wearing exciting underwear. The situation actually demands it."

Her elbows lock, preventing him from pulling her in for a hug. She looks down at her feet, and bites her lip before raising her head and locking eyes with him.

The look on her face tells him that she is in the midst of some sort of internal debate. Not certain if she should trust her instincts and force a conversation, or let Logan's idea of working through the details by making out take root. He'd prefer the impending serious conversation to take the form of pillow talk, but has a feeling she's going to give him the explanation he's been waiting for.

And damn Wallace for knowing that she was going to be there and hiding it from him. The little sneak used his insider knowledge to trick him into coming upstairs, and now Logan has to think of a complicated, and likely expensive, way to thank him. Probably an all-expenses paid vacation before Jenny has the baby.

Nodding more to herself than to him, it seems, she takes one last deep breath and scrunches up her face. "I was seeing someone."

He frowns at her, wrinkling his brow, not entirely certain when this 'seeing someone' happened. He hopes it's just in the two months since they've seen each other, but her expression of guilt tells him otherwise. "When?"

She sighs and looks over his left shoulder, and then his right, as if the explanation she needs is written somewhere on the wall behind him. "When you and I – at the reunion, when you and I slept together, I was dating someone."

In his more self-destructive days he's been 'the other man', but he never thought Veronica would make him that. He swallows down the lump in his throat, and tries not to sound too injured when he responds. "Is it serious?" He's not going to brandish judgment at her, but he feels a weight pressing against his chest as he waits for her answer.

Taking a step towards him, she seems to have found her confidence again, because her voice is strong. "Was. And not really, but that's not the point."

It's odd to hear this confession of hers, mainly because he didn't ever think that cheating on someone was something she'd allow herself to do, but the past two months make sense now. Her leaving in the middle of the night. Her reticence to talk to him. The note of shame and panic he heard in her voice when she finally picked up the phone.

He knows he needs to take this seriously, because it's obvious that even saying these words is causing her pain, but he can't help but smile at her. "Let me guess. His name was something a little off-beat, like 'Humphrey' or 'Waldo.'" At her stricken look, his small smile grows into a full grin. "Am I right?"

The sound of her answer comes from her throat and is more grumble than actual words. "Griffith."

"And the word that most aptly describes him is 'nice.' Maybe 'sweet'?"

At her deep frown, he knows he's gotten this part right as well. "What makes you say that?"

He doesn't want this to sound accusatory. Or, worse yet, dismiss the apparent stress she's been under, but it is amusing she doesn't see the thread of similarity that has run throughout her dating history. "It's your go-to type of guy. Except me, of course."

She smiles at him, her eyes softer than they were when they first started talking. He'd like to think it's her recognition of just how well he knows her.

"And Zach," she says, "he wasn't like that either."

Being compared to the letch of an ex of hers is not something he relishes, but before he can protest that he never cheated on her, she shrugs and interrupts his thought process.

"Did you know I had to talk myself into going out with him? Zach? At first I thought it was because I still wasn't over what had happened between," she chooses to wave a hand between the two of them rather than explain. This is a memory that they've dealt with, but clearly not one she'd like to discuss ad nauseam, and he can't say he feels different. "I never had to do that with you. Whenever you and I got together, it just felt normal. Like it was how it was supposed to be."

Her echo of the exact thought he had upon seeing her again makes him want to weep with joy.

In the past two months he's learned more about what Veronica felt for him during their fucked up teenage years than he ever did when they were dating. And this just can't keep happening. He doesn't care if it requires couples therapy, spiritual retreats on deserted islands, or tying her down until she talks about her feelings, they can't keep doing the same self-preservation-hide-their-feelings-bullshit. They've apparently both learned that lesson and applied it to their relationships, but now they get the chance to do that with one another.

Despite her pushing him away earlier, they are still standing relatively close to one another, so he easily reaches up and brushes his fingers across her cheek, causing her eyes to close at the contact.

"I'm sorry, Logan."

He doesn't kiss her, still wanting to hear whatever she has to say, but rather bushes his lips across her forehead. "Veronica, your attitude towards sex was never casual."

She grimaces, and he's concerned she's going to push him away again but, while her eyes turn downward, her feet stay planted. "It's still not."

"So, what happened that night?"

Gesturing at him, she scrunches up her face, clearly embarrassed by what she's about to confess. "You did." Those words don't have time to register before she continues. "And a bit of alcohol, too."

The words 'you did' are so simple in their meaning, but they tell him everything he needs to know. The alcohol helped, but it was mostly him.

Resting his hand on her shoulder, he gives it a little squeeze. "You could have stayed and told me all this."

She's shaking her head, dismissing what he's saying, before he's even finished speaking. "No, I couldn't." Taking a shuddering breath, she looks down at her feet and then back up at him. "I woke up that morning and I was so -" she trails off and then pauses, seemingly trying to find the right word.

Hoping it won't be anything that injures him too much, (remorseful, angry, sexually unsatisfied, are all terrible options), he runs his hand up and down her arm, loving both the feeling of her smooth skin under his fingertips and seeing the goose bumps come to the surface.

"—relieved. God, I was so happy to be there, Logan. You have to know that."

A wide, beatific grin breaks out on his face, and he pulls her closer. "And then what happened?"

It's a shrug and a half-smile as an answer, but he doesn't believe the uncertainty the gesture is supposed to communicate. She knows exactly what happened, and he just needs to give her a little time to say it.

A puff of air escapes her lips, and she nods almost imperceptibly, probably giving herself an internal pep talk to say the hard words. "I watched you sleep for a while, and then got up to go make coffee and breakfast. When I checked the time on my phone I saw I had a couple of texts from -"

She trails off again and starts worrying her lower lip. "—him. I realized then exactly what I had done." Closing her eyes for a second she takes another breath before finishing. "I was vaguely aware of it the entire night before, but kept pushing it aside; told myself that I'd never cross that line. The next morning it hit me just how bad I messed up and I just had to get out of there."

Her confession shouldn't make him feel joyful, there's a melancholy edge to it, but what she's said is so 'Veronica' that it makes him smile. She's not apologizing, not really. His guess is that if she had that moment to do again, she'd make the exact same choice. But, she_ is_ being honest with him about what brought her to that decision in the first place.

Placing a light kiss on her nose, he takes a moment to breathe in the scent of her shampoo, and then pulls back. Bending at the knees slightly so he can look at her directly in the eye, he repeats what he's already told her. "You could have told me."

Again, she's shaking her head, not really believing him. For whatever reason, she's convinced _that_ was non-negotiable. He starts to ask why, but she cuts him off.

"Logan, I couldn't. Don't you get it? I did to Griff what Zach did to me. What my mom did to my dad. If I had stayed, you would have told me that it was okay, because Griff and I had only dated for three months, and because it was you and me. And I would have believed you." He wipes away a tear that's formed in the corner of her eye, and when she speaks again, her voice is lower than before. "I'm just as bad as they were."

He hates hearing she's lost faith in herself. Whether it is a good or bad thing, Veronica has always occupied enough of the moral high ground for both of them.

He knows it's not being with him that's causing her distress. There's a room service cart and a bottle of wine that tells him being in a room with him is exactly where she wants to be. It's having to admit how badly she messed up. Acknowledging it to one's self and saying it out loud are two very different things.

Cupping both sides of her face with his hands, he kisses his way down the side of her face. "Yes, you are." She groans, and tries to push him away but, the attempt is half-hearted. With a chuckle (completely at her expense), he tilts her chin up so she's looking him in the eye.

"You fucked up Veronica. You really did. But you're human, so it's bound to happen." He runs a finger down the bridge of her nose and then over her top lip. "It's not the exact same thing, though. You weren't married. And you didn't try to hide it. You told him the second you got back to LA, didn't you?"

Nodding, she reaches up a hand to take hold of his wrist, fixing him with a hard stare. Her eyes are pleading with him, and he's not entirely certain what she's asking for. "In the past, when I've made big mistakes, people get hurt. I can't give myself permission to do that."

They stay locked like that until the true meaning behind her words register. She's giving him even more insight as to why she shut him out in the weeks following their reunion. "That's why you didn't talk to me? You thought you hurt me too bad to be forgiven?"

The gratitude she feels that he understands is palpable, and she smiles, rotating her face ever so slightly to kiss his palm. "I needed to sort myself out without you distracting me."

Which just makes him grin, because he knows that's exactly what he would have done. If he had gone to LA like he wanted to, he would have convinced her they were meant to be together, she would have conceded, six months later something would have happened to bring up her residual guilt, and they would have broken up.

"You know Wallace wouldn't talk to me for weeks after I walked out on you?"

He drops his hand from her face, the surprise of the revelation causing him to take a step back. The look on his face must communicate that he doesn't really believe her, because she laughs.

"I swear." She bites her lip, and shrugs. "He told me I was being unfair to you – that I owed you an explanation. I called him a couple weeks ago and told him I needed his help."

This provides him with further evidence that Wallace is the best kind of human. Not only did he stick up for Logan, Wallace kept the fact that he and Veronica were in a standoff to himself. He chose to keep that between the two of them (and probably Jenny). It occurs to Logan that that's what being a grownup looks like.

"He never told me. I didn't know."

She smiles and moves closer to him again, cautiously resting her hands on his shoulders before moving them to loop her arms around his neck. "He wouldn't. It's not his style." Tilting her head to the side, she smiles. "Or as he might say, 'it's not how he rolls.'"

Looking down at her scrupulously, Logan shakes his head and kisses her on the forehead, not certain if it's okay yet for him to take it further. "You shouldn't say that ever again." Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulls her snugly up against his body. It'd be so easy to kiss her now.

They haven't talked about all their issues, and he knows they probably aren't going to. Between the conversation tonight and the time they spent together last reunion, they both know enough to know they want the other person. And for this evening at least, that's a sufficient starting point.

"So what's with the whole 'fake surprise party' hoopla? It would have been just as effective for you to pop out of a fake birthday cake, nude." He waggles his eyebrows, and she gives him a disapproving stare, but its affect is minimized by the twitch of her lips.

"You needed to know I meant business. That this wasn't a one-off. So I planned, and got Wallace on my payroll." Her eyes flick to a couple points throughout the room. "Put this all together."

"Are you trying to tell me that you came to woo me, Veronica Mars?"

She nods and begins playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Something that, while it feels incredible, makes it more than a little difficult to think straight. "Yeah, I did. What do you think?"

He smirks and looks up and away from her face, as if to truly ponder the question. "I was actually looking forward to receiving a stack of mid-range designer colognes, neckties, and picture frames. No party, no presents." Hanging his head down, he looks up at her from under his eyelashes, his lip stuck out in a pout. "The disappointment of that is crushing my spirit."

Opening her eyes in mock distress, she runs a hand down the line of buttons on his shirt. "Oh, but I already gave you one present. And I have another one for you later."

His eyes rake her body, from her hair curled in loose waves, down her emerald green blouse and grey pencil skirt, and then back up again. "Is my present under your clothes?"

Rolling her eyes she shakes her head. "No. But you never answered my question. What do you think?"

"About your plan to woo me?" She nods and he smiles at the slight bit of hesitation he sees in her eyes. Like there was ever a doubt? "Well, you did say you loved me once. Past tense."

She scrunches up her face, a look of guilt that she's trying to cover by being adorable. Oh god, he's a sucker for that look.

"Well," she says, stretching out the word so it is much longer than four letters long. "I may have misled you there. Just a little bit." He feels his heart actually stop beating as she holds up her thumb and index finger. "I kind of discovered the past two months that the whole 'love' thing is a little more present tense than I thought."

He's grinning like he doesn't know how to stop, she's mirroring him with a grin of her own, supremely proud of herself for leading him into that revelation without him knowing it. He's afraid if he keeps looking at her he might do something insensible, like burst into tears, so he ducks his head to kiss her. Before he does, he flashes her a smirk (because otherwise she might not recognize him). "Well, that makes this whole thing a lot more interesting.

Finally, he does the thing he's wanted to do almost every day since he last saw her, and dips his head down to meet her lips.

When he pulls back, gently tugging her lower lip between his teeth for good measure, her face is flushed and one of her hands is clutching at his shirt, the other tangled in his hair. She takes a few steadying breaths and then looks up at him. He's more than a little emotional, so he might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees adoration in her eyes.

"Based on the evidence I just gathered, you seem amenable to my proposal." She smiles up at him and, if he wasn't already, he'd be a total goner.

"I think I might be, but I want to see my other present before making a final decision."

The look of faux annoyance on her face turns him on more than it should. She looks around the room and then frowns, slapping a hand to her forehead with a groan. "Shit."

Brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, he rests his hand on the curve of her neck. He trails his fingers along her collarbone, pretending to ignore the shiver she gives in response. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so dumb." She sighs and drops her eyes to the floor. "I think I left your present in the bedroom." Looking up at him, she gestures to the bedroom door with her head. "On the bed."

He grins again, sparing a second to note that he doesn't know if he's ever smiled more in one night, and kisses her hard and fast. His hands move to her waist and he starts walking her backwards to the bedroom door. "We should go get it then."

Running a hand up and down his chest, she tilts her head to the side, and looks almost bored. "Probably. You seemed to think it was pretty important."

"It is. It really is." He kisses her again, bringing her flush against his chest. "I may hide your purse and shoes when you fall asleep." She frowns at him and he laughs directly in her ear. He can feel the way the vibrations from his laugh cause her to shudder, and now he's the one who is supremely proud. "Just in case you get the urge to run out on me again."

It must take a concentrated effort to not respond with a quip of any kind. She just smiles and nods, walking back towards the room with his hands still on her waist. "Okay."

* * *

**Epilogue: Twenty Year Reunion  
**

* * *

After the fourth loud rap on the door, the blonde laying on top of Logan's chest groans, burrowing her face into the neckline of his shirt. "He's not going to go away is he?"

"I don't think so, doodlebug."

She groans again and gives a half-hearted slap to his chest. "Your nicknames are the worst."

"All of my nicknames?"

"No, I like babe. And Kit."

Laughing, he places a series of kisses at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Of course she likes Kit. Kit short for kitten. Kitten short for sex kitten.

This reminder makes him keenly aware of the fact that he has yet to take advantage of the fact that they're alone. When the pounding on the front door resumes he sighs. He tilts his head back and calls out, "Wallace, use your damn key."

Logan wraps his arms around Veronica's waist and purposefully squeezes her a little too tight, just because it makes him chuckle to hear her let out a strangled groan. He loosens his grip and traces the zig-zag pattern of the shirt she's wearing with his index finger.

Her eyelashes tickle his neck as they flutter a few times and then close. If it wasn't for the way she was running one hand up and down his side, occasionally dipping into the waistband of his pants, he might actually think she wanted to take a nap.

Close to five years together and the feeling of contentment he has with her in quiet moments has yet to wane. He remembers what it felt like to come into his house their first Christmas back together to find her wrapping presents. She was sitting on the living room floor, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boy short underwear, and her face was scrunched up in concentration. He almost proposed on the spot.

The vast majority of his life experiences have told him that good things, no matter how good they are, never last. It's taken a while to cast off their shared cynicism, but for the most part, they are able to accept contentment as their new status quo.

He hears Wallace's key in the lock, and a few seconds later he and Jenny are walking into the living room. Both are dressed up for the evening, and Wallace scowls at Logan and Veronica when he takes in the fact that they are both wearing sweatpants.

"You can't go dressed like that."

Veronica mumbles her answer into Logan's neck, and the way the words are almost indistinguishable makes him smile. Most of what she does makes him smile. "Since our telling you half a dozen times that we're not going fell on deaf ears, we thought we'd try a more visual approach."

Logan sees Jenny roll her eyes behind Wallace's back, and he's not certain which person in the room the gesture is directed at. The way she walks past Wallace and curls herself up into an armchair, pulling a blanket over her, tells him it's probably Wallace.

"Come on, you guys! The food is better, the music is louder -"

Logan cuts him off, ignoring the animated hand gestures Wallace uses as he tries to communicate a series of selling points. "And yet we remain unmoved."

Veronica nods in agreement, and Logan just laughs at the way she's able to be so contrary with so little effort on her part.

"Where's Olivia?" Wallace asks, doing his best to ignore the way that Logan's fingers are swirling on Veronica's back, moving under her shirt.

Kissing her shoulder, Logan raises his head up to make looking at Wallace a little easier. "She's at Keith's."

Behind Wallace, Jenny beams. Regardless of what the four of them do this evening, the idea of being one night sans children is clearly what Jenny needs.

"You two sitting on the couch and watching a movie is a complete waste of a babysitter," Wallace answers, earning himself a light kick from Jenny.

"And yet, here we lay. On this couch." Veronica's breath is warm against Logan's chest as she answers, and it's enough to make him wish they were completely alone. But they're not picking up Olivia until the following evening, and they've already planned to spend the vast majority of the following day in bed.

Scowling at them both, Wallace sits down on the arm of the chair Jenny is occupying. "You guys have more than enough furniture. Why are you sharing one couch?"

Logan provides an answering shrug, and runs his fingers through Veronica's hair, splayed out across his chest. "We wanted to watch a movie, but we both wanted to lie down."

Lifting her head up slightly, Veronica turns to look at Wallace. "Really, we didn't have another option."

"Actually," Logan says, calling her attention to his face. "I can think of another place where we could both lie down. And there's a lot more room." He waggles his eyebrows at her and moves one of his hands to her butt, giving it a squeeze.

She shoots him a warning glare but he ignores it, knowing she doesn't mind all that much. Since she has yet to dump his ass for his other far more annoying habits, he doubts this will even be listed in her 'con' column of behavior.

She folds her arms on Logan's chest and rests there again, looking up at him even as she speaks to Wallace. "We're not going Wallace. Just accept it. 'No high school reunions' was even in our marriage vows."

"And those aren't something either one of us are willing to break." He means it as a joke and looks at her with a smirk on his lips, inviting her to join in on the banter. But then they lock eyes and he can feel the way the moment has unexpectedly become serious.

Shaking her head an almost imperceptible amount she whispers, "Right," in a voice meant just for him, and then dips her head to kiss him.

"I was there. I don't remember that," Wallace says.

Logan smiles in response, but he's still focused on Veronica. It amuses him that Wallace actually thinks he'll be able to persuade them with his persistence. They're stubborn enough on their own, but when they're in agreement on something, they're a force. "It was implied."

"But." Wallace's almost petulant tone brings their attention back to him, and Logan notices that Jenny may have actually dozed off in the armchair. With three kids under the age of seven, he doesn't blame her. "Give me one good reason."

"I'll give you two reasons. Reason number one is our ten-year reunion where I was a total ass to Ronnie and she left, almost in tears. Reason number two is our fifteen-year reunion where she did a fuck and run."

Slapping his chest in half irritation, half-principled-indignation, she looks up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Tell me, I'm wrong." He counters with an eyebrow of his own. She's gotten better, but he's still the master of communicating thoughts through eyebrow waggles. What he says isn't an accusation, he just figures that pretending their past is anything but checkered is silly.

"Fine," she says with a huff, and presses her face back into his neck.

It's a heady sensation getting the last word with Veronica Mars. One he doesn't often experience, but relishes when it comes his way.

Apparently Wallace hasn't yet given up, because he resumes his argument. "But, I'm wearing my fancy duds. And my lady friend-" He trails off when he looks down and sees Jenny cuddled into the oversized chair. "—is about to fall asleep."

Jenny mumbles into the cushion, keeping her eyes closed. "Wallace, sweetie, can you go get the bag I put in the backseat of the car? It has my sweatpants in it."

Veronica is the first to laugh at the realization that Jenny knew exactly what was going to happen this evening, and she just burrows further into Logan's chest. Jenny's request of Wallace is all the confirmation Logan needs to know the argument is over.

Leaving the two Fennels to sort this out themselves, Logan throws his head back and rests it on the arm of the couch, committing to memory every detail of what it's like to hold Veronica Mars in his arms. He still has a hard time understanding how he gets to do this every night, but he's stopped wondering when it will slip away.

"You guys staying for a movie?" Veronica asks, her voice muffled by Logan's shirt and skin.

Wallace shrugs and stands up, most likely to head out to the car and get the bag Jenny packed. If Logan were to guess, Jenny has probably also packed a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie for Wallace, because that's just the kind of woman she is. Even if he and Veronica had never reconciled, Jenny and Wallace would be all the proof he'd need to know that some marriages were meant to last.

"Might as well. We got a babysitter and everything."

As Wallace heads out to his car, Logan gently tugs on Veronica's hair to get her to look back up at him.

"What?"

He grins at her whiny tone and kisses her temple, then trails his lips down the side of her face to whisper in her ear. "I love you."

With two hands pressed to his chest so she can lift up and look down at him, she nods. "Me too. Present tense. Always." Starting with his jawline, she places kisses all over his face, and then down his throat.

It occurs to him that this could get out of hand. It's been at least two weeks since they've had sex in the living room, so they're overdue. His hands start to move for Veronica's butt again when the sound of a throat clearing reminds him they're not alone.

Clearly it's a reminder for Veronica, too, because she groans and collapses onto Logan's chest.

"You guys are so fucking cute."

Jenny's sleepy voice swearing is enough to make Veronica giggle and then raise an eyebrow at Logan. "That's one word for it."

Smiling back at her, he pulls the blanket down from the back of the couch and covers them both up with it. As a sigh escapes her lips, Logan moves his hand under the blankets to dip into her sweatpants and rest on her butt.

"Logan," her warning makes him smile. He loves her fake annoyance at his never-ending reign of lechery.

"What, babe?"

"If you're going to grope me, you need to feed me. Pizza and gelato, please."

He doesn't even hesitate as he reaches behind him and grabs his cell phone, dialing their favorite pizza place from memory. "That can be arranged."

When he slides the hand on her butt up to rest on her lower back, she grabs it and slides it back down to where it was. She always could match him action for action.

He doesn't care if Wallace's sales pitch was based in reality; if the food really will be better or the music really will be louder. The way he sees it, people only attend high school reunions to rub their former classmate's noses in their personal success or to hook up with old flames.

There's no one from Neptune High that he really cares enough to impress and he's already hooked up with his former flame, the ring on her finger reminding him that he did so in a pretty permanent way.

After ordering enough food for all four of them, Logan drops his cell phone to the ground and reaches behind him for the remote, searching for a movie to order.

It's not possible the Neptune High School alumni committee could plan an event that tops what it feels like to have Veronica press her face into his chest as the movie starts. Or duplicate the feeling of peace that overwhelms him when he tucks his daughter into bed at night. Or eclipse the deep joy he experiences when the woman he's currently holding mouths the words 'I love you' to him across a crowded room.

"I bet that reunion is going to suck." Her words are getting softer, but he's not too worried about her falling asleep. She'll get a second wind when food is delivered.

"I bet you're right."

"I'm always right."

"Sure, Kit. Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night."

She pinches his side. He kisses her forehead, and then silently decides that the next time they receive a high school reunion invitation, he's going to recycle it without even opening the envelope.

Fuck reunions. He doesn't need any more.

* * *

**A/N 2: **That's it! All over now. Love it, hate it, would love to hear what you think :)

**A/N 3: **Hey! I have a beta. Her name is scandalpants. And this story wouldn't have happened without her. So, thanks lady! I apologize for my frequent, misuse, of, commas. I, promise, I am, trying, to get, better.

**A/N 4: **I have a tumblr! So go ahead and follow me (link in my profile) if you want to read me make a bunch of jokes that I think are hilarious and write way too many thoughts about Logan and Veronica.


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